


at the end of our time

by xShieru



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Bonding, Drift Compatibility, Friendship/Love, Gen, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, every warning that would apply to pacrim applies here too, judai's life is a mess in every universe, mentions of various ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xShieru/pseuds/xShieru
Summary: After a very bad fuck up with his ex co-pilot, Judai Yuki is forcibly shipped out to a Jaeger pilot training facility located in Siberia. Within a year, he is to find himself a suitable partner.Expecting nothing, Judai gets far more than he'd bargained for.





	at the end of our time

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write a spiritship fic for ACTUAL YEARS now  
> f i n a l l y
> 
> this is a clusterfuck of me exploiting the shit out of the movie so there will be inaccuracies. future ships (not really the main focus, i promise) consist of idolshipping, destinyshipping, fossilshipping and some one-sided valentineshipping. as for the warnings: ptsd, drift-related anxiety, borderline nihilism/depression, casual racism, etc.

 

Judai never noticed that about himself but his right knee tended to bounce whenever he got anxious or had to deal with waiting for the unknown.

The metal-paned hallway outside the Marshal’s office is empty as always – except for when the old man’s right hand would walk by, more than willing to complain about the disrespectful rookie cadets – but today Judai takes no comfort in it. He’d much rather have Chronos’ babbling or right about anything else disturbing the deathly, smothering silence, distracting him from his plaguing thoughts.

There isn’t a single doubt in Judai’s mind that today’s the day he’s finally going to get _an honorable discharge_ from the Jaeger pilot program. He’s finally brought this upon himself – though a whole lot sooner than he would’ve initially thought. His grandiose plans of fighting off every single kaiju to come to the surface and saving countless innocent lives in the process are going to naught with every passing moment spent here, _waiting_ , fearing for what may come. He’s been to Marshal Samejima’s office more than enough times, but this visit is by far the scariest.

Despite being a jackass of a ranger with little to no regards towards the shatterdome’s rule system and proper respect for most of the superiors, Judai never wanted it to come to this. If this is truly his final day here, he can’t even begin to imagine as to what he’s going to do next. Judai’s future plans never had anything that didn’t involve Jaegers, kaiju or The Breach in them.

Fed up with the jitters, he starts pacing, chewing on his already painfully short nails, and startles when Napoleon’s nasally voice calls out “Monsieur Judai Yuki”. It somehow manages to sound smug even through the heavy door – that man’s probably been anticipating for this day just as much as Judai’s been dreading it, more than happy to hear that the ingrate ranger has finally found himself in enough trouble to get booted out. Judai dislikes Napoleon, mostly. He can respect the guy’s wonderful piloting and multiple victories against the alien race constantly pouring out of the main breach located between the two tectonic plates of the Pacific Ocean – lately, more and more breaches have been opening up all across the world – but other than that he’s a huge jerk. A very vengeful one too, Judai might add, as he swallows down the tight ball of nausea, squares his shoulders and discreetly fixes the lapels of the maroon bomber jacket a second before the door slides open, automatic and inaccessible to anyone other than Marshal Samejima and his two spiteful underdogs.

The former man has his thick fingers twined and held level to his mouth – a sign that the Marshal is unusually serious. He’s not looking directly at Judai despite the ranger awkwardly standing in the doorway, quickly navigating to the side when the door abruptly closes. To his right, there’s an overflowing desk with coffee stains and more paperwork on it than Judai’s ever seen in his entire life. Behind it sits Napoleon, stroking his tiny moustache like he’s some sort of cartoon villain and giggling to himself every now and then as if he’s thoroughly enjoying the show – the supposedly knowing _hohoho_ is honestly starting to piss Judai off but he tries to keep his composure. He’d rather eat Napaleon’s gold and diamond-encrusted fancy pen than give the older ranger the satisfaction of seeing him crumble down into a pathetic, sobbing mess at Samejima’s considerably cleaner table, begging for one more shot at this. He already feels close to doing so.

Marshal Samejima lets out a deep sigh. Still doesn’t look at Judai’s damp eyes.

Oh god, he fucked this up.

A moment stretches too long and too quiet – still ignoring you, Napaleon, bye – before the Marshal motions to a leather-covered chair and Judai sinks into it, tries not to bounce his knee. Usually no matter what offense, big or small, Samejima would greet him as an old friend and they’d talk about life over coffee and toffee-flavored snacks, but this Samejima is a _Marshal_ and Judai feels inclined to act his politest.

“Is there a reason you wanted to see me, Sir?” He wonders if he should properly salute but only lowers his head in a display of guilt and shame.

The Marshal takes out an envelope, filled to the brim with notes upon notes regarding Judai’s offenses and disgraceful behavior, leafs through it. Compared to other rangers’ archives, Judai’s could easily replace the bible – the folder’s that thick. “You know why I called you here, son.”

Judai stares at his white knuckles. His feet. Chews on his lower lip and tries to steady his voice – it’s beginning to quiver. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he says, going for the dumb act. “…Sir.”

The Marshal sees right through him, releases another painful sigh – as if dealing with Judai is causing him to lose years of his remaining life. “I’m going to get straight to the point, Judai.” If he squeezes his eyes shut and sharply breathes in, Judai doesn’t even notice it. “You’re here because of the trial error that occurred with Ranger Marufuji – who, as you know, has yet to recover from the emotional damage he experienced while attempting to go deeper into the drift.” The ranger cringes then, still sore with this subject in particular. Sho’s empty room that’s located right across from his haunts Judai every single time he returns from the dining hall. Not to mention the fact that the whisperers wouldn’t stop, theorizing on what had occurred inside the training pod, what caused Sho to go into a state of emotional shock so intense he’s been refusing to see anyone for days now, Judai in particular.

People who didn’t know Judai from his days at the Pilot Academia thought that everything was his fault somehow – he’s the one who couldn’t find himself drift-compatible with right about anyone except for Sho and even then it had been a horrible failure. A failure that they both had instigated and the one that would now lead Judai to his imminent expulsion. For scarring Sho, his best friend back at the Academia no less, Judai feels this to be a fitting punishment. He’s the one who offered this dumb idea to begin with.

The one that ended up with Sho chasing the rabbit twenty-two seconds into the neural handshake.

And the worst part is that even if he feels sorry as hell for Sho’s mental breakdown and the fact that the other’s been doing nothing but staring into the void at the infirmary ward for the past two days, Judai feels it to be unjust – why should he be the one punished for someone’s moment of weakness? Even if technically it was his duty as Sho’s co-pilot to drag the blue-haired kid out of his memories – memories of a metro and Sho’s older brother curled up around him, shielding him away from the commotion and the mass confusion, constantly telling him that it’s going to be okay, that mom and dad are _definitely_ somewhere in the shelter and that they’re undoubtedly looking for their kids who were separated from them in the midst of the panicked crowd.

The images of a city-wide memorial service for the victims lost in the sudden kaiju attack which followed afterwards were enough of an answer to all and any questions Judai might’ve had at the time if he wasn’t too busy trying to reign in his own turbulent, repressed memories and talking sense into Sho at the same time.

For all of the romanticized bullshit light the drift is viewed upon – _a perfect harmony of two, a duet without music, a bond unlike any other, one that could easily put familial and romantic relations to shame,_ or so he was taught at the Academia, anyways – the real thing is scary, crazy dangerous and it really doesn’t suit Judai as a person because he really doesn’t enjoy the idea of others tapping into his life story and then gaining full access to his brain. The thing he had with Sho was barely something one would refer to as _drift-compatible_ , yet Sho was the only person out there with whom Judai came close to forming a true bond built upon mutual trust, understanding and respect. Granted, there weren’t many options to choose from within the shatterdome built on a small island on Japan’s east coast, not to mention the fact that most of the functioning pilot pairs had already been forming all the way back at the Academia.

Speaking of.

Marshal Samejima cracks his knuckles and finally faces Judai, ridiculously serious. “With the loss of a bond that you had with Ranger Marufuji, you have completely run out of compatible pilot options, Judai. I’m well aware of that.” He pats Judai’s story, twice and sharp. Not only is it overflowing with those disobedience notes, it also holds the records of his unsuccessful attempts to discover a fitting co-pilot. “However, we all know that it’d be a huge loss to let you go just yet – after all, you are one of our brightest.” Judai lets out a relieved breath that he’d been holding in ever since the door of the Marshal’s office had nearly torn his heels off. To his right, Napoleon scoffs, disappointed by this turn of events.

“If I may speak…”

“Permission granted, Ranger.”

 _That’s a new one._ “Sir, with all due respect, if this isn’t about my discharge from services, what is it that you want to tell me? I don’t like people stalling for time and I think that I can handle the truth no matter what it might be,” Judai looks up, determined. Realizes he might’ve sounded too brash, curls in on himself again. “Sir,” he adds, just for the sake of making amends.

“How dare you speak to Marshal Samejima in that clipped tone, young man?!” Napoleon hollers from his cluttered desk and then smacks its surface for no reason other than to look like an angry midget of whom Judai is unafraid of and unamused by.

Samejima seems to share the sentiment as he tiredly tells his work colleague to put a sock in it and then deals his most promising ranger the finishing blow. “Therefore the council has decided to send you off to the Russian branch at Siberia. There, you will be assigned on a CCAT program which will last an entire year. You may return afterwards, depending on your progress and willingness to cooperate - you can refer to it as field training.”

Judai hears white noise and nearly jumps out of his seat. “You want to pawn me off to that place, on a program that only the coaster leftovers take? Sir, is this a bad joke? And to _Russia_ of all the places, why not USA at least?” He’s heard… _things_ of the cadet coupling program and of the RUSHQ and while Judai isn’t much for rumors meant to belittle the less successful pilots, he doesn’t have a very good impression of that place in particular. He’s perfectly capable of finding someone here, in Japan, his home base. Not in… Siberian woods or wherever – honestly, he’s never looked into it and the name doesn’t ring any bells in his geographically-stunted brain.

He tells the Marshal as such, but the older man wants to hear none of it, only rubbing his temples as if he’s expected this outburst but had miscalculated its severity. Badly. “Look, Judai, if it were up to me, I’d let you stay, but it’s a unanimous decision, irrefutable and unquestionable. I’m only here to notify you of it, make you sign the papers and see you off on your journey. The paperwork’s already been completed and if you don’t board the plane to Moscow in two days’ time, you can consider yourself discharged. In the end, this choice is yours to make. Just be smart about it and think it through carefully.”

Judai feels his vision turn fuzzy around the edges – _you’re not giving me much of a choice here, are you?_ \- and breathes heavily, sinking back into the soft chair. He doesn’t need to look around to know that Napoleon is nearly skipping their way, Judai’s transfer papers held in his grubby hands, waiting to be signed and stamped.

This shatterdome’s been Judai’s dream for as long as he could remember. It was the second-biggest, second-most powerful and _achievable_ for someone with his background. It wasn’t just some childish pipe dream, it was something that Judai could easily do as long as he put effort into it, aced his SE and got scores high enough to not get kicked out. He even graduated in the top ten, for god’s sake!

And now he was being shipped off to the branch forgotten by god, a wasteland of ice and permanent winter. All because he couldn’t find his _One and Only._

“Sho!” he then exclaims the name of his last hope.

“What about Marufuji?”

“The law dictates that if a ranger is put under temporary suspension or is about to be transferred to a new HQ, their co-pilot always has a say in it. My signature isn’t enough, Sho is still my partner last time I checked. There!” Judai crosses his arms, happy and content, certain of his victory. Sho would never betray him –

“Under the direct orders of Seto Kaiba himself, I’m afraid that Ranger Marufuji has signed your leave, pardon… transfer papers three days ago,” Napoleon unhelpfully supplies, a lecherous grin spreading on his lips as he holds out the gold and diamond pen for Judai to take. The old man says it as though he’s expecting to never see Judai around these parts ever again. Perhaps he won’t. Perhaps Judai won’t even sign the damn contract.

Sho’s signature glares at him, written in Napoleon’s light blue ink, loopy and undeniably… his.

Betrayal and guilt twinge in the back of Judai’s consciousness as he ignores Napoleon’s pen, grabs the cheapest looking one lying around on Samejima’s desk and signs the goddamn thing, nearly making the paper tear from the force he puts into it. Napoleon shoots him one last stink-eye – thank god it’s the final one he’ll be seeing this year – and Samejima looks up, apologetic, says, “I’m sorry, son, but it’s for your own good,” and lets Judai leave without waiting up on a dismissal.

Judai doesn’t look at the metal door leading to Sho’s room as he unlocks his own and then falls into the bed without taking off his boots.

* * *

 

It’s a damn shame and really unfair because Judai adores this place despite never properly belonging to it. He also loves his friends, home country and this messy room. Judai curls up, eyes falling on the faded posters that have been adorning the walls of his living spaces for years, takes in the petite figure of Yugi Mutou drowning in a black-blue pilot jacket with a golden, inversed triangle clipped on its lapel and a sleek, black helmet cradled in the crook of his elbow. It’s an ancient promotional poster for the Jaeger program, requesting the brave ones to join in and work together for the greater good, a better tomorrow. Its colors are faded and there’s a small tear in one corner, but it’s still majestic, reassuring and encouraging in a way. Constantly helping Judai deal with his inner dilemmas.

Yugi has always been an idol of his, a simple boy from Domino city with nothing to his name, who stepped up for the sake of humanity and made the Jaeger program a success. When Judai was a kid he’d always drool over Yugi’s blushing face whenever it would show up on the TV screen and Yugi would be a guest in talk shows, featured in daily news and whatnot – Judai doesn’t think he’s ever missed a single show and if he couldn’t watch one, he’d ask his mom to tape it. He owned plenty of posters depicting the Golden Pharaoh and its proud pilots, along with the pile of toys he’d hoard to bed before falling asleep.  Yugi is his inspiration, the reason why he wants to try harder and the sole reason why he hasn’t quit it all despite running into more than enough obstacles on his way to glory.

Glory that’s been robbed of him due to one tiny lapse of judgement, a single mistake that caused his co-pilot to shut in and refuse to eat. Something he couldn’t magically undo no matter how many times he wished he could.

“What am I gonna do now?” he asks no one in particular, eyes sliding over the old, crusty posters. Shabby, yet loved. “Start over? What if I don’t find anyone there?”

The posters don’t reply, encouraging him to look forward to a great future.

Speaking of future, it’d do him good to think of alternatives for once but no matter how hard Judai tries, he cannot visualize himself returning to… the normal life. To civilization. To living instead of surviving every passing day, fighting for the peace of those who carry on as though there isn’t an apocalypse  reoccurring outside their windows every three weeks, a mere handful of kilometers off the shores. Judai wonders what living like that feels like, remembers doing it back in the day too, before everything went to shit. Doesn’t really recall what’s it actually like though. Blissful? There is bliss in being oblivious, right?

Tries to visualize himself living in an open space instead of the ever-present, cage-like metal plates of the shatterdome, along with its incessant tinkering-related noises – saws, hammers, machinery. Working at some lame office, located far away from the surrounding waters because he’d rather not firsthand experience a kaiju attack ever again.

To summarize – it fucking sucks and it sounds boring as hell.

Even if he has to force himself to bond with someone, he’ll do it for the sake of _feeling alive_ , getting inside a Jaeger’s cockpit and charging at some blue-blood alien. Having a good, exerting fight. Coming back to the base victorious and being a savior to the shatterdome’s residents. A hero, like Yugi was.

Judai lovingly pats the crumpled poster of Yugi posing by his Jaeger, shielding away his purple eyes due to the sun glare. This one’s signed, followed by the words _‘make your dreams a reality, Judai-kun :)’_ “You always know what to say to make me feel better,” Judai sighs.

The poster remains silent but this time the quietness is less stifling than before, wanted even.

Judai gets up and peels off his stuffy outwear, readying himself for some intense cleaning before dinnertime. He doesn’t have much time left to pack, after all.

* * *

 

The fried shrimp tastes like heaven against his tongue and Misawa makes a face at him for dropping rice everywhere, his tray included.

Through a mouthful of miso soup, Judai confirms his friend’s suspicions and the rumors that have already spread out to the bigger portion of the shatterdome’s residents – no wonder people have been openly staring at him when Judai strolled into the cafeteria, too busy ogling a tiny slice of cheesecake to pay attention to the rest. Usually, whenever others ogled someone – the speed of the rumor mill within this facility was ridiculous - they tried to keep it secretive, but now there were visits from the people he vaguely recalled seeing or briefly interacting with at the Academia, most of whose names Judai’s long since forgotten. Those who weren’t brave enough to approach were whispering among themselves or waiting for their friends to fill in the details after they would finish saying their goodbyes.

“It’s sad to see you leave so suddenly,” Misawa says, not sounding sad at all, and elegantly fishes out a tomato slice from his salad – watching the other eat hurts Judai on the inside, it’s always the same old health freak food and he wonders how his friend isn’t twig-thin by now; instead, he’s got more muscle than two Judais put together. “But I think that this will do you good. I’m certain that the Marshal had only the best intentions in mind when he came up with this arrangement.” _Also now there’s one less obstacle on my road to becoming number one._

Judai would point out that he’s likely being booted out by the unreachable, world-famous Seto Kaiba but he knows how Misawa gets about not being noticed by influential people unlike the troublemaker sitting before him who (if he wanted to) could simply march into Samejima’s office uninvited, do fingerguns followed by a wink, ask “what’s cracka-lackin’” and then casually wonder if he could watch the TV for one game or another, seeing that his was too old to catch a proper signal inside his catacomb for a chamber.

He only replies with a noncommittal “maybe you’re right!” and continues vacuuming the rice bowl clean as if the world is coming to an end – technically it is, but he chooses to ignore that part.

Misawa looks around and conspiratorially leans in to whisper, “Rumor has it that you aren’t the only one leaving for the Russian branch. Senior rangers are saying that Fubuki Tenjouin is resigning from the Jaeger program because of his rapidly worsening mental health and that means that Asuka’s co-pilotless now. She doesn’t have a choice but to go.”

Misawa’s words sound like utter bullshit, Judai thinks, when he turns his head to get a better look at the table occupied by the Shatterdome’s Best, only to find the Tenjouin siblings peacefully eating dinner. Fubuki’s mid-theatrics as usual, grinning and animatedly telling his younger sister some story, but instead of getting her attention, he manages to charm all of the ladies in the nearby vicinity. Asuka, as always, pretends that she isn’t listening. However, today Judai feels his impression to be true because their gazes meet halfway across the spacious hall and then she quickly looks away, frowning lightly. Judai notices the girl readjusting her long, pale fringe – a little something that lets her continue her task without making it too obvious. 

It’s a little weird because Asuka’s never paid him any mind, even during the Academia days – not that Judai ever had a problem with that, she always did seem too… self-centered for him to casually converse with. Asuka graduated on top of their year – normal subject and simulation score-wise (80 kills in total) and the students would worship the ground she walked upon. Half of them were fawning over her just because she was _The Fubuki’s_ younger sister – the guy who scored the maximum points on the high-rank, brand new S-program “Blitzkrieg”, co-created by the Industrial Illusions Inc. and Kaiba Co. , the guy who was better known as the Blizzard Prince, courtesy of word-play and the simulation title. Asuka’s “followers” would often innocently inquire about her older brother, subtly ask for those invaluable “10JOIN” autographs, offhandedly wonder if she could perhaps introduce them to Fubuki  - maybe he’d find them interesting or of use, drift-compatible not only inside a Jaeger. Those followers were the ones to grant Asuka her title, The Ice Queen of the Academia, fierce and unyielding, unconquerable.

Judai found it somewhat silly – she was just another girl, another student who put in slightly more effort and time into her studies than the rest and who had great talent where it mattered - but found the dumb, condescending title strangely fitting. It suited her; a seemingly cold and distant person. That’s how Judai felt about her anyway, at least based on those three or four sentences they’d exchanged in their younger days.

Much to Fubuki’s displeasure, Asuka gets fed up with the constant stares and collects her tray, the masses separating for her to dispose of it. It almost seems as if the sound dies down a little bit before picking up in volume again the moment the Ice Queen makes her grandiose exit.

Misawa is still talking about some irrelevant rumors Judai doesn’t really care for – after all, they’re nearly not as interesting now that he’s leaving for sure and won’t get to see the people in question again, nor is Judai really interested in who bedded who and how beautiful that new techie Tania is – and he successfully loses himself to his thoughts and the sweet texture of the cheesecake. Thinks about Asuka and Fubuki, about their brother-sister drift-compatibility, and their Jaeger, Snowstorm Idol, ruined beyond repair after intercepting a Level 3 kaiju. Wonders if it’s true that Fubuki’s losing pilot mentality to crippling depression and PTSD. Wonders if Asuka is on the same boat as him – two of a kind, unmatched by any cadet out there.

He and Asuka went through a compulsory cadet trial upon entering the shatterdome. One fight was more than enough to know that they’re incompatible. Judai felt it upon the first blow she’d landed on his torso, intent on damage rather than communication. Not that he’d expect any less from someone who had spent the majority of their time hanging out with Kaiser Ryo before the latter graduated, also the top student of his year.

By the time he’s done with dessert, Rei musters up enough courage to perch next to him and ask if he’s truly leaving, when he’s going to return and can she take his room until then because hers sucks – _yes, I don’t really know, just don’t rearrange the furniture, took me a while to get it the way I wanted it._ She also asks Judai if he’s at least going to pay a visit to Sho before leaving for Russia to which he replies with a big fat no because he thinks that it’s better this way – seeing Judai again would probably only bring unwanted memories to the surface of the shorter boy’s mind and Judai feels that he’s done more than enough damage already. They can always talk it out via phone.

Rei’s blunt questions bring some unwanted topics up on the table so Judai feigns a headache and resigns for the night – it’s only 8:30 PM – without saying a proper farewell to his friends who, even if they might be upset by his sudden leave, don’t outwardly complain or try to stop him.

They’re probably just mad that he left behind his tray on the table.

* * *

 

When Judai’s exam scores come in, he’s more than ecstatic.

He checks his ranking to find out that he’s graduating at the top ten of the Academia – the bare minimum requirement to get into the shatterdome and receive a permission to start serious, high-intensity pilot training right away – in cases of emergency – pilot a Jaeger as well.

He’s happy to see the names of his friends there as well – all of them had made it. Sho, Kenzan, Hayato. Asuka Tenjouin, Daichi Misawa, Saotome Rei and Judai Yuki. Number 4 on the top ten student list in a Academia populated by two-thousand people, all of whom were desperately competing for an easy entry to a place of their choosing – and here he is, blowing others out of the water with impressive SE’s scores. Completely failing half of the normal, everyday subjects, but that’s beside the point. He scored high enough on Tech. English – he’d been cramming for this one in particular _for weeks_ – and that’s the only important subject that the shatterdome’s officials ever paid attention to so he’s good. 

Kenzan decides to pick a different path from the rest – he doesn’t want to be tied down to Japan forever and wishes to travel across the world as much and as often as he can - as much as his job as a freshly-baked cadet will allow him, anyways. They throw a sick goodbye party, drink, blackout, drink some more, cry a little, and then see Kenzan off, green-faced and unsteady, when he boards a 9:15 AM plane to Hong Kong the following morning – he almost missed it too, hungover and busy retching in the public bathroom instead of looking for the correct gate.

Hayato realizes that his true passion lies within the cold, titanium steel plates of Jaegers the moment their chopper lands on top of the shatterdome and basically reassigns to tech support upon arrival – a thing that typically doesn’t happen when you graduate from a pilot school meant for _future pilots_ , but there’s a first for everything. They throw another sick goodbye party, drink, blackout, drink some more, cry a little, and then see Hayato off to a different ward of the shatterdome. One that barely interacts with theirs, so hey, it still counts as a farewell party. Plus, Hayato’s family is famous for their sake breweries and Maeda’s father had tearfully gifted his only son a two-liter beast for not bringing shame to the family name and stepping up when it mattered the most – finals. The details are a bit hazy, but it was fun.

Judai’s leaving tomorrow morning, there are no sick goodbye parties, nobody drinks, he blacks out solo in his bed when the analog on the wall reads 1:10 AM, and he realizes that he probably has no friends to see him off as well. Not that he’s too surprised.

Most of Judai’s friends were a high school-only sort of deal.

The small group had drifted apart upon entering the shatterdome, all of them focused on different things, goals. New people, new places. More space to wander about and not run into each other on a daily basis.

Now that Judai thinks about it, they weren’t very close to begin with, all of them having specific interests and rather clashing personalities. Despite being way younger than the rest, Rei was cool to talk to and hang out with whenever she wasn’t acting weird or clingy, but Judai never actively sought out her company. Misawa was awesome to compete against and do fun, mischievous stuff with, but that’s about it – the two of them never had mutual interests except for piloting thus most of the time they had nothing to talk about. Misawa was just sort of _there_ , always blending into the background – someone who’d always be around whenever meal times rolled by and Judai could set down his tray and squeeze in next to.

Sho? Water _not quite_ under the bridge.

Other than those three, Judai realizes that he has no one else here that he considers close to him and that kind of sucks. Perhaps it’s his punishment for acting like a selfish prick instead of forgetting his own insecurities for once and fully diving into the mind-meld mess to save Sho, the only guy who has come close enough to being drift-compatible with him, Judai Yuki, the fierce hater of all presences foreign within his brain.

If Sho caught a glimpse of all that crap perpetually boiling in Judai’s head and heart, he didn’t let it show. And Sho isn’t a very good liar; Judai thinks that he probably would’ve noticed that something was different by now. Perhaps he subconsciously chose Sho as a co-pilot because he knew that the other would never betray him, rat out his innermost private thoughts to the rest.

Ruin this image of an aloof, happy go lucky knucklehead.

Not that Judai isn’t any of those things, it’s just that, uh, it’s the apocalypse of humankind. It changes people in unexpected ways and apparently damages them in an unspeakable manner. He has his _moments_ and his _weaknesses_ , less than welcome and intrusive memories, and he doesn’t want others to find out about their existence – anxiety and fear of rejection won’t let Judai open up, reach out, seek reassurance in others. Not in Sho, at least. The kid has his own fair share of emotionally-taxing crap to deal with.

Judai has a good night’s rest – despite the small amount of gnawing anxiety of the things yet to come, nothing ever truly affects his sleep quality or its schedule – makes some instant cheese and herb-flavored ramen and double-checks his most important belongings (posters, mostly). He hardly remembers a day being up so early – 6 AM, to be exact – and mourns the fact that he won’t get to taste the cafeterias’ godly food one last time – he didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to Tome-san, Judai’s favorite cook since day one. She never shied away from stacking up his tray and would gladly give him seconds, for which Judai will forever be grateful, still cringing at the memory of Academia’s dry, unappetizing food.

Their chopper’s supposed to leave for the mainland at 6:30 AM sharp and the shatterdome is a vast maze of echoing hallways filled with hatch-like doors that look identical to the point all of the newbies would easily get lost and mixed up on their first months here, so Judai grabs the duffel bag, his backpack and decides to head outside – he’s bound to get lost at least three times either way and he has no doubt in mind that he’ll most likely end up running late.

Judai doesn’t expect to run into Asuka until the takeoff, yet there she is – dressed in civilian attire and dragging along a huge, navy-colored suitcase. She rounds the corner of the ranger living area located in the sixth floor – Judai lives on the third – and she’s about to enter the elevator so Judai yells out a chipper “good morning!”, picks up the speed and energetically waves as though there’s a huge crowd loitering around and Asuka’s at a serious risk of not noticing the sole, flailing pilot at 6 in the morning.

Asuka turns away from the pinging elevator exclaiming “sixth floor, sixth floor”, a little startled due to the bold approach – the unimportant people the Ice Queen didn’t bother speaking to tended to stay clear of her path. “Judai…! Good morning,” her voice is quiet, a little embarrassed, but the aforementioned boy only grins, helps her navigate the huge suitcase inside and sticks a foot between the double doors the moment they begin to close. At this point he’s going to lose his legs, really.

The bolted doors are thick and heavy and it fucking hurts.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Judai grits out through a toothy grin and rubs the sides of the injured foot, barely managing to balance due to the heavy backpack weighing him down. The door closes with finality. Asuka steadies him by the shoulders when the elevator begins moving. “Ouch.”

“Leaving with quite a few adventures, I see,” Asuka chimes in and it takes one look at her face for them to burst out laughing. They giggle for the next three floors until Judai can properly stand, both feet firmly planted on the ground.

Asuka’s cheeks are flushed from mirth and Judai notes that she has a sweet, and most importantly, warm smile. Outright tells her, “My first impression of you was very wrong,” and sticks out his right hand for her to take.

“A lot of people tend to say that,” Asuka nods in reply with another small smile, firmly shaking Judai’s hand.

“People also say that you’re also going to join me for CCAT?” Judai inquires with all of the delicacy that he can muster which isn’t… much. Or anything, actually.

Asuka turns to the exit then, her initial good mood dwindling in the blink of an eye. “Unfortunately,” is all that she says – apparently Misawa isn’t as much of a bullshit machine as he thought. Asuka waits for him to join her at the entrance hall and then checks the inside of her purse, rummaging through it.

There’s a neatly folded letter held in her pale hands and she hands it over for Judai to take. The bubbly kanji spelling out his name is enough of a hint as to who the sender might be. “Marufuji asked me to give this to you. He said that he doesn’t blame you for anything that occurred in the… drift.”

Asuka looks up, uncertain, and it seems like she’s dying to ask for answers but Judai only smiles, eyes squinting and cheeks dimpling, pockets the letter for later reading – preferably when he’s alone and settled in his new room. “Thanks for dropping by to visit him.”

“Of course I would,” she says, a little solemn. “Ryo wanted to know how his brother’s doing after everything that’s occurred. And I was worried as well so I wanted to check in!” Asuka seems flustered then, tripping over words and trying to explain herself somehow. She has nothing to prove in Judai’s eyes though, he’s the one who is the blue-haired boy’s most precious friend and who’s steered clear of the infirmary ward due to the inability to face his own guilt.  

Judai gets interrupted before he can say something along the lines of “of course you did” which would probably sound terribly insincere and demeaning to others. A heavy bag drops between them with a muffled thud and they look up only to find Fubuki Tenjouin hoisting himself up and over the rail he’d been perching on. The man hops down from it, landing rather smoothly and gracefully despite the long fall.

“10JOUIN!” Fubuki exclaims the catchphrase with an exaggerated wink, strikes a pose, and Judai claps, amused by the dramatic entrance – it’s still a bit hard to stomach the fact that The Blizzard Prince of the American Academia has this sort of personality. Asuka seems thoroughly unimpressed, slapping a hand to her forehead and then rubbing it across her face. “Hello, my fellow travelers. Lovely to see you all this morning, chipper and well-rested!” the older man says with the sort of boundless energy that only comes with showering in ice-cold water, having a balanced breakfast, doing morning yoga, wresting a bear and then circling the island at least twice before showing up to the designated point. In other words – Fubuki’s a rare specimen of the morning people species.

“Brother, please, it’s far too early to embarrass yourself,” Asuka mutters through her slim fingers and hides herself in the cashmere, light blue scarf even further. Today the skies are clouded, the wind is harsh and unforgiving, blowing in short, strong gusts, and the early spring temperature isn’t the greatest, promising a turbulent hour-long ride to the mainland.

“I’m not trying to embarrass myself, Asurin, I’m trying to make friends. Something you should definitely try out every now and then! You’re breaking your older brother’s heart with that chilly attitude of yours.” Fubuki wags a finger at the blonde girl, a “now-now” gesture that’s meant for scolding a fussy child and she only harrumphs and turns away. The older Tenjouin’s grip on Judai’s hand is just as strong but far more energized, shaking firmly. “The infamous Judai Yuki, was it? I heard a lot of great things about you!”

Judai smiles back, flattered by the other’s acknowledgement. “Really!? What kind?”

“Did you really get on Chronos’ nerves on your first day at the shatterdome and then publicly embarrass him in front of the rookies?”

“He doubted my competence and I only wanted to show him that he was wrong! Plus he’s the one who challenged me so it’s his own fault.” They went 1vs1 on an S-program when the older ranger tried to crush Judai’s optimistic outlook on piloting being, first and foremost, a fun experience. Needless to say it didn’t quite work because while Judai was fresh from school it didn’t mean that he was bad or inexperienced. He kicked Chronos’ ass easily enough, no problem, bringing the other’s wrath upon himself in the process. “Come to think of it, afterwards he was constantly out to get me. Didn’t work though.”

“No shit?” Fubuki guffaws, a deep sound that somehow brightens up the gloomy morning. “Samejima doesn’t side with rookie-crushing ways and Chronos’ initiation traditions, no wonder you lasted till the very end!”

Judai raises an eyebrow, confused. “Till the end…?”

“Uh, yeah?” Fubuki looks a little surprised himself, finally lets go of Judai’s suddenly damp palm. Looks at Asuka for confirmation who only shrugs, just as lost. “The dome’s been buzzing with the talks of your suspension ever since Marufuji junior’s freak-out. They said that you’re going to be dropped off at the mainland with us and then we’d go our separate ways?”

 _What._ “I’m not though? Where’d they even get this? I’m going with you, guys. I told Asuka that like ten minutes ago.”

Asuka only mumbles something ineligible and fixes the scarf. Judai makes out the words like “didn’t know”, “uncertain” and “rumors”.

Well, the pitying, probing stares and the tearful goodbyes finally make sense, wow. No wonder his friends gave him space. Perhaps they didn’t even believe in Judai’s return even after he told them that he’d be back for sure? After all, the rumor mill knows best.

“Well, I heard that you two are going your separate ways because of… emotional issues?” Judai frowns, unsure of everything at this point in time. Oh man, he probably should’ve properly read through the papers that he was about to sign. What if the majority of the shatterdome’s residents were right? What if he’s going to get dropped off at the mainland, alone and lost and… no longer a Jaeger pilot. Left behind without explanations and without any pity.

Samejima wouldn’t actually do that to him… would he?

Of course he wouldn’t. Judai’s one of the best damn rangers out there, shatterdome’s most promising, graduated in the top ten of his year and booting him out would be the biggest, sore mistake one could ever make. He knows his worth, damn it.

Fubuki snorts as if to confirm that rumors of any kind are completely untrue. “Emotional issues? We all have those, we wouldn’t be dumb enough to try out this program otherwise.” To their side, Asuka frowns. “Try a shattered elbow. The docs told me this day would come eventually.” Fubuki cradles his right arm, rubbing it absentmindedly. “If I try to pilot for any longer it’s likely that I’m gonna lose all functionality in it. It’s not like I’m happy with leaving Asuka behind, you know. She’s like you in a way – can’t find someone to share a drift with, not only in piloting but also life – ouch, sibling abuse!” Asuka retracts her fist slowly, as if warning her older brother to stop it. “So I decided to come along and oversee this whole CCAT thing. Heard it’s a pretty fresh program plus supervising it will set my mind at ease. Though I’m happy to see my precious baby sister communicating with others already! She’s not going to be lost and alone inside an unfamiliar base. “

The girl of the group mercilessly pinches Fubuki’s cheek. “Anyways, what he means to tell you is that he decided to come along and act as an overbearing older sibling even though I’m old enough to take care of myself,” the last four words are underlined by a new, vicious pinch.

“I think it’s pretty neat that you have someone following you to the middle of nowhere just to make sure you’re doing alright.” Judai shrugs. Not like he can relate, haha. He’s always been a challenger either way and he didn’t need anyone supervising his progress or guiding him to new places that he could easily explore and fit into on his own.

“Right!?” Fubuki cackles, victorious. Doesn’t fight off Asuka’s merciless attack – he’s probably used to the bullying by now.

“You’re only going _there_ because you’ll get a chance to see Ryo again!”

“I’m going because I care for you enough to follow you to the freezing Siberian tundra, their kaiju research department is rumored to be the most advanced and the greatest one in the world aaaand I also get to reconnect with Ryo, so you’re totally right there!” By now Asuka has him in a chokehold. Judai wonders whether he should step in but sibling banter is none of his business. “I wonder how he’s doing. Probably busy spinning a steaming, intense romance with…” Fubuki’s eyes squint into small slits, _“Phoenix.”_

“I lost you midway,” Judai confesses, smiling to mask confusion. Fubuki doesn’t catch that, mouthing away.

“Brother’s a big sucker for messing around with kaiju insides. It’s like having real UFOs to dissect,” Asuka’s nose wrinkles at the quote. “And seeing that he can’t let go of the resistance lifestyle, he’s reassigned to a different department. “

“What’s so fun about poking at an ocean lizard’s organs with a scalpel?” They had to study kaiju anatomy in order to get a better outlook on where to land the finishing blows and it was the single most boring subject Judai’s ever had to go through, closely followed by Physics. He’d slept through most of Kaiju Bio and he definitely wouldn’t have been able to slip through as easily as he did if it weren’t for Hayato’s help. God bless his soul for letting Judai copy his homework and doing all of the dirty organ probing for him.

“It’s fascinating,” Fubuki replies, sighing theatrically. ”Not that I expect a hardcore pilot to understand anything about that!”

“True enough,” Judai and Asuka speak up simultaneously and the older man says something about them coming together to bully him for his strange interests. He’s always been a huge fan of otherworldly stuff. Like, this one time when he and Asuka were five and six respectively, he tried to summon a ghost via an Ouija board and – there’s the chopper, drowning out the rest of the story.

They barely talk during their flight to Japan’s coast – Judai stares out the window until the shatterdome leaves his vision and slips into the cover made from fog and thick, gray clouds – and then point out the new buildings down below – this city area in particular got a little roughed up just half a year ago when they’d failed to properly contain an evasive double-event kaiju – sharing stories of the last time they’ve actually gone back home or wherever it was that they belonged to. Turns out none of them left for the holidays.

A lot can change in a full year when you live in this time period, Judai figures. He hasn’t seen the mainland since graduation, but in some bizarre way it almost feels like ten years have passed since then.

They’re still trying to build a wall around the metropolis despite it serving little to no actual purpose other than granting its governors a deluded sense of security and control, along with condemning people to physical labor, usually followed by inevitable exertion and alas death by falling.

Asuka in particular gets really vocal about it, frowning at the construction and the countless men swarming it like ants on an anthill, tinkering.

They’re dropped off at an airport afterwards and have twenty minutes to waste before their flight, all of which are spent babysitting Fubuki because the older man absolutely has to buy Ryo an ugly souvenir to remind him of his roots. He gets an unattractive bobble-head of Japan’s prime-minister holding a small imitation of the wall spelling out “no living kaiju, even if it costs our own lives” in one hand and a flag in the other.

Judai’s really not up to date with the world politics unless they’re somehow relevant to the upcoming alien attacks and the unnatural spikes in The Breach’s activity but he figures that not a lot of people are happy with their wall predicament, especially after it’s been broken through at least thrice.

Asuka looks at Fubuki’s bobble-headed monstrosity as if she’s secretly considering swiping it away the moment her brother faces in the other direction and smashing it against the nearest hard surface, but she doesn’t get to do anything because Judai’s wandering away, intent on checking out everything that the airport has to offer and satisfying his curiosity.

Asuka forcefully has to drag him away to their gate, saying that they’ll end up being late.

* * *

 

Turns out that Seto Kaiba truly is supremely invested into nurturing the talent of the next gen’s promising Jaeger pilots, so much that they get a private fancy jet with a mini-bar and huge champagne-colored armchairs for seats along with not only one, but two flight attendants, checking in every fifteen minutes or so to ask if they’re comfortable and if they request anything.

Upon seeing the KC logo emblazoned on the side of their ride, Judai exclaimed an amazed “ohh cool!” and was the first one in line to climb on board. He then absolutely had to try out everything, taste all of the hors d'oeuvres and press all the buttons – he and Fubuki had an automatic armchair (with awesome massage functions implemented into them) race to see whose back would reach the floor first – plus they had like nine whole hours to waste before reaching the midpoint of their final destination – the beautiful tundras of Siberia.

Those hours tick by in a blink of an eye with Judai becoming considerably closer to the Tenjouin siblings and finally feeling happy for the first time in a what seems centuries – he’s been in a sullen mood ever since Sho’s accident. Fubuki is a really cool guy if not a bit too extra, but he’s really fun and he gladly answers all of Judai’s excited questions regarding the American Academia and its shatterdome, tells Judai all about the great and notorious pilots he got to meet during his time there – the younger boy lets out a soft gasp when Fubuki tells him about Jounouchi Katsuya’s visit, exaggerating only some of the minor details.

Once Fubuki whips out a ukulele – “do you know any Metallica?” Judai jokingly asks and much to his surprise the other fucking _shreds it_ on his goddamn ukulele – and Asuka finally puts her book aside, Judai turns his puppy dog-like attention towards her and straight up asks the question that’s been bothering his mind for days now: did you even enjoy your time back at the Academia?

Seems that Asuka really didn’t because she hardly had any friends ‘cept for a few girls who were way more interested in each other than the Ice Queen of the Academia. Judai wonders, outloud, if she would’ve liked it a bit better if she had someone like him to hang out with – how very _not_ conceited of you, Judai, but yes, I’d like to think so.

Fubuki casually asks them if they’re flirting. Asuka replies with a dead-eyed stare followed up by a dumbfounded “no” while Judai says that it’s okay because everyone falls in love with him. He loves himself too so at least they have that in common.

The two of them then talk about their old professors and mutual acquaintances and when Asuka opens up more, Judai feels that they aren’t so different after all. She’s fierce but very kindhearted and noble, plus Judai respects skilled pilots who don’t look down on others – a rare breed these days.

Fubuki christens Judai their little snowflake – haha, _Yuki_ , get it? – Asuka threatens to disown him for that terrible pun, actually, for all of the winter-related puns he’s ever made and Judai feels far too good and content to move up from his beloved armchair (this is what true love’s like, he thinks, wondering if he could ask for the chair to be removed and transported to his new quarters) despite the captain notifying them that they’ll be landing at Moscow in a few.

* * *

 

Judai’s too tired to fully take in the bustling city surrounding him, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. The architecture is different, so are the neon advertisements, and it isn’t as stuffy as the big cities in Japan. In a way.

It’d be far less annoying if the people stopped pretending that they couldn’t understand a single word of spoken English. The trio and their escorts got more than a few peculiar stares and unfamiliar phrases shouted in their direction and Judai glared back as if to ask “what”, but in the end their short visit to Russia’s capital went by without any further incidents.

He doses off to the Tenjouin siblings whispering among themselves, sharing earphones as to not disturb their friend, and dreams of permanent winter and a faceless co-pilot.

* * *

 

There’s paperwork. A whole lot of it, followed by coffee breaks and a severe case of jetlag. Asuka and Fubuki have been led away to a different ward and they weren’t kidding when they told Judai that he wouldn’t survive out here by wearing only two layers of summery clothes.

They’d been right – _Severnaya Zemlya,_  or whatever the hell that mouth twister’s called – is chilly as fuck. Freezing even.

Judai was out in the open for a grand total of two minutes and he could no longer feel his fingertips or face. He’s certain there were icicles hanging out of his nostrils as well and his eyes started mercilessly leaking upon coming in contact with the first gust of northern wind.

Apparently, during springtime Russia’s temperature dropped to impossible open freezer-like lows and he didn’t even think of taking that into consideration - the only warm particle of clothing that he currently owns being his bomber jacket. Even after Judai shrugs it on, it still feels a bit too thin as though it’s filtering the ice-cold air that’s painfully stabbing his upper arms with the fervor of a thousand tiny knives. He attempts to rub away the goosebumps rising along his skin and simultaneously listen to the local Marshal explaining the main point of this exchange program in very broken Japanese. Judai can barely make out what he’s saying, wonders if this is what he sounds like to native English speakers and nearly snorts when the old dude calls this “field training”.

Prison sounds more accurate because he’s gonna be stuck here with punks and jackasses alike and honestly it almost kind of feels like home except Judai doesn’t know how the rules work around these parts, what’s the code for a good-kind or bad-kind jackass, and he isn’t sure he’s going to fit in but Judai isn’t about to give up on this. So far he’s only seen buff men with log-like arms and barrels for chests and they all looked like they could pick their teeth with Judai’s slender body if they wanted to. Not that they’re gonna bring him down easily, because Judai’s no pushover either.

He wonders how this whole drift thing is gonna work. Maybe it isn’t too late to have a go at it with Asuka again – though he doubts anything’s changed in that department.

He tells the Marshal about his situation – no warm clothes, sudden transfer, please treat me kindly, _onegaishimasu_ – and the guy is nice enough to sympathize, asks for his measurements and hooray to more uniforms. Only temporarily though, or so he’s told. Rookies aren’t to stand out unlike the high-ranked rangers who can wear whatever they feel like as long as they got their Jaeger’s insignia somewhere on them.

Russia sure seems anal about the whole marking thing, Judai thinks, as he tries to navigate the spacious hallways and find his future room. There are only three doors in the assigned hallway, it also feels as though someone’s left the AC on and then forgot all about it for like two years, that’s how warm this place is. When Judai reaches his hole in the wall door, he almost gets offended at the size of his new room, its quality.

However, it’s a universal law that beggars can’t be choosers and no one wants him downstairs tonight so Judai can sneak in a few hours of shuteye.

* * *

 

Fubuki foils all of Judai’s sleep-related plans at exactly 5:00 PM by knocking on his door and asking about his decency level. Despite the other’s abrupt arrival, Judai feels less like death and more like himself, cracks open a crusted eye, yawning and stretching. Lets the ex-ranger inside.

Fubuki whistles lowly at the ancient calendar – that Judai hasn’t noticed before because there’s no such thing as good lighting here – hanging on the other side of the metal, rusted door. It has a pic of a naked lady covering most of its space, along with some unfamiliar hieroglyphs that probably spell July and then there are tiny numbers crammed somewhere in there as well as to not obscure the lady’s naked glory. Judai’s nose crinkles at Fubuki’s “oh, so you’re that kind of man” and then he asks what the fuss is all about. What was it that was so important that Judai had to be forcefully woken up from his magical slumber.

Fubuki, ever the random one or so it seems, eyerolls at his junior’s theatrics and then produces a big fat tabby seemingly out of thin air, petting the furry beast behind its nubby ears. It lets out a deep _mrooow_ and hops out of the brunet’s loose hold, right onto Judai’s bed.

Judai stares, squinting to make out more things in the darkness of his cave. “What, so are we gonna roam around and herd strangers’ cats now? Can’t we do this _after_ we find out whose pets are a-okay to steal? I have some experience in that field and I know what I’m saying, trust me.”

“You what?”

“Experience. Cat herding. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I, uh, neat. Also I didn’t steal it, I just happened to run into it and it followed me all the way here.” Fubuki flops onto Judai’s cot. Makes a face when he finds it to be too hard for his tastes, bounces on it a couple of times as if hoping for the mattress to give in. It doesn’t. Judai fears for the safety of his bed – while he doesn’t exactly mind crashing on the floor, he minds doing so in this kind of weather – the pipes gurgle mysteriously and there’s barely any heat coming out of them, making the inside of the room right about as warm as the hallway. “Where are the lights?”

Judai shrugs. “I don’t know. Haven’t had the time to check yet. Try feeling around that wall and I’m gonna do the same here.”

“Not to diss or anything, but this place’s a shithole,” Fubuki sighs, pets the nameless cat instead of making himself useful for a change. “Asuka’s chamber is no better. My _supervisor_ \- what a darling kid, probably younger than you and my baby sister – told me something interesting when I asked him all about it. Check this: the superiors do not appreciate hosting us, _monolid rats_ , in their humble abode despite it being an obligation to the JCA treaty. If we want a room upgrade, we ought to become _qualified rangers_ soon. It was funny hearing all of this coming from that guy’s mouth considering the fact that he’s Japanese himself. I appreciate the… brutal honesty though. Said it how it is. Told me that we might come face to face with some casual racism during our “field training”.”

“Oh damn, as if I wasn’t excited enough. Do you see what I’m doing here?” Judai sticks out his tongue. Just what they all needed, as if they weren’t under enough pressure with this time-limit and bullshit contract. Their pilot careers were on the line here and now they had to deal with racist shit. Neat. “Some horror stories for home. Guess we’ll have to prove them wrong.” Judai finally feels the small switch and it takes the fluorescent lamps about ten seconds to turn on properly. Half of them are still flickering. It gets annoying soon enough so Fubuki begs him to cut the power. “Did you happen to run into any of your old friends while I was out?”

“Nah.” Fubuki kicks back and sprawls out on the bed, moving the fat cat to rest on his stomach. “I was going to hit the cafeteria and then hunt them down afterwards. Do you want to come al-”

“Absolutely,” Judai says before the other can finish the sentence. “In fact, let’s go right now. I’m gonna go crazy if I spend another minute in this closet.”

“Or turn into an ice-cube.” Coincidentally, Fubuki honestly shivers and rubs his upper arms.

“Or that. Let’s go find more cats, _senpai_.”

“If you call me that in the hallways or openly speak Japanese, you do realize that you’re gonna get some nasty looks, right?”

Judai shrugs, grins to himself. “That’s the plan. If they don’t like it, it’s their problem. They should get used to having us around.”

“If push comes to shove, I’m not jumping in to save you from a brawl, brave little snowflake. I prefer my beautiful face without any ugly bruises, thank you very much.”

“I’ll protect your honor, _senpai_ , I swear it.”

Fubuki casually slaps the back of his head, laughing. “Flattery will get you nowhere, young man, get in line if you want some.”

Judai makes a mental note not to flatter Fubuki Tenjouin ever again, laughing awkwardly and bolting out. The cat follows them the entire time.

* * *

 

Seems that Fubuki’s new boss man wasn’t kidding – at the cafeteria they attract more than enough nasty stares and muttered curses, none of them spoken loud enough to catch the guards’ attention or warrant any reprimanding remarks. Asuka agrees with Judai’s opinion once she swallows down her bite – this really is truly something akin to prison rather than a pilot training facility because guards? Really? What are they gonna do, start a food fight?

The guys sitting three tables away look like they’re more than down for it but instead of mashed potatoes they’d be throwing knives and chairs and punches and anything but food, so okay, maybe the patrolling guards aren’t such a bad idea after all because Fubuki thinks that by now they’d be skewered with plastic forks if it weren’t for the reassuring presence of superiors, providing some bizarre sense of order. So really, just like in prison.

“I think they’d be doing a whole lot more than skewering you, guys. But that’s just my opinion,” a new voice chimes in and Fubuki’s brown eyes go so wide they nearly pop out of their sockets. His spoon hits the soup bowl with a loud clatter, getting some on his sleeves.

Judai and Asuka are no better, the latter nearly choking on a piece of bread. Judai nonchalantly mentions that he does mean Heimlich maneuvers but the blonde girl politely turns the offer down, washing down the rough bite with some… lukewarm berry juice? Whatever that is? The peculiar name slipped Judai’s mind completely – _kapot, kulot?_

“It’s been a while,” Ryo Marufuji, better known as Hell Kaiser, sets his tray next to the still speechless Fubuki’s and if Judai squints and rubs his eyes to the point he can see white spots dancing around in his vision he can make out a _genuine smile_ on the teal-haired pilot’s face.

Fubuki gapes some more. Kaiser looks like he’s about to laugh, that is, if it wouldn’t completely break his intimidating and serious persona. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” From under the table there comes yet another food-begging meow and Ryo reacts to it in a heartbeat, picking up his utensils. “Cat got your tongue?”

Fubuki finally looks like he’s getting some semblance to a signal in his brain. “I don’t know about ghost but I sure as hell don’t think that this is my best friend.” He punches Ryo’s arm in good humor. “Who are you and what did you do to Marufuji?”

“I can hardly believe that this is the first time we see each other in years and this is the first thing you do. Accuse me of being an impostor and then punch me. You’re the same old Fubuki alright.”

“Well, I’d hug you or something but we’ve got a serious case of Nasty Oakentons over there looking like they’re about to go into cardiac arrest if they witness their best pilot getting even chummier with the new kids. It’s like we’re living out a teen drama, Mr. Jock.” Fubuki doesn’t shy away from pointing out the people in question and Judai fears for his safe return to his bunker-cave. They all look like they’re about to pop something – specifically Fubuki’s kneecaps. It’s kinda hilarious how offended one can get.

Asuka seems to be sharing the sentiment and they exchange a look.

“Thank you for blessing us, newbie nerds, with your star athlete presence.”

Ryo rolls his eyes at that and before he can mercilessly stab a piece of lettuce, he looks straight into Judai’s eye. Recognition shines there immediately. “So the rumors were true. You look well, Judai.”

Flattered that the Kaiser still remembers his existence – they talked a few times and went to the SE together on multiple occasions; an honorable mention of duking it out twice, 1/1 – Judai snickers, happy. “I wouldn’t say the same about you, man. Have you been staying up for days or what?” He then runs his fingers under his own eyes to indicate Ryo’s massive eye bags.

“Life caught up to me,” Kaiser shrugs as if looking like a zombie is a no big deal and continues eating for all of five seconds because that’s how long it takes for Fubuki to take in his childhood friend’s appearance and evaluate it. “Forget sleep, have you been eating properly? You’re all skin and bones. When was the last time you got a haircut, jesus.” He fusses and then passes some meatballs into Ryo’s plate, the latter refusing all the while.

“Nice to know that you can actually emote.” Behind Asuka, there’s yet another new presence. The guy looks considerably young, has long, silver hair, a fully-loaded tray, an insignia on his silver-dark gray jacket that matches Ryo’s and despite being a foreigner he speaks flawless Japanese. “Compared to the constant brooding and communicating in a series of differently pitched grunts, I’d say that this is an acceptable, welcome change of scenery.”

Under his breath, Kaiser mutters an angered “you can shut up now” at the same time Fubuki lets down his war weapon – a spoon – and hisses out “ _Phoenix_.”

The guy looks thoroughly unimpressed by the rough treatment. “Tenjouins,” he says slowly, after his gaze flickers down to Asuka who seems a little uncomfortable.

“And I’m Judai Yuki,” Judai pipes up with a friendly wave but the pilot only throws him a cool, evaluating look in return.

“I know and I don’t really care.”

“Ehh.” Judai only blows out his cheeks, not really bothered by the attitude. “Well aren’t you a rude host?”

“I’m rude in general. It’s like a personality trait or something. I’m sure you know what that means. Now please move over, I’d like some space to sit down.”

Judai keeps eye contact all the while and spreads his thighs over the unsteady bench, trying to take up as much space as possible. Grins widely at the barely-visible twitch under the other’s eye. “Rude kids aren’t welcome to sit with me.”

Ed Phoenix, Destiny End’s pilot, drift-compatible with Ryo Marufuji, looks like he’s about to say something mean and argue his way into a seat – Judai’s always wanted to know what the kid is like but he’s the senior here no matter what status they might hold within this facility - but Asuka smoothly cuts in, tells him to move it or switch seats because they really don’t need more future conflict on their hands and so Judai finds himself sitting next to Ed, who, despite trying to appear crass, is actually a decent human being and can hold a conversation pretty well, sass aside.

It’s also worth seeing Fubuki’s face scrunching up whenever Ryo and Ed fall into casual banter – it seems to be a dynamic of sort, comfortable and acceptable on both sides.

They leave the cafeteria an hour later and then come the hugs, Asuka going first – Ryo’s missed her and has she grown? – and then Fubuki hogging him afterwards. He refuses to let go for an uncomfortable amount of time to the point Ryo awkwardly stiffens up and gently pats his friend’s side, an obvious indication for Fubuki to let go, says something about seeing them later just to throw the guy a bone to which the clingy brunet reacts immediately.

“I was actually thinking about throwing a small welcome party?” He seems spirited. Hopeful. Ryo doesn’t shoot him down immediately, neither does Ed who’s been staying off to the side and not so discreetly rolling his eyes all the while, so Fubuki takes this as an approval to continue voicing out his ideas. “It wouldn’t be a big thing and since I found out about the whole bullshit hierarchy thing from Manjoume,” Judai’s eyes widen and he makes a mental note to ask the older man about this Manjoume later on, “I’m gonna make it Japanese-only. We could do it today if you’re free? We’d just need to find a good place for it and then meet before curfew.”

They agree to it and Ed offers to take the party to the lounge area on the first floor – it’s warm because of the functioning heaters and a built in furnace, plus not many people come there in the late evenings. Fubuki collects their PAs and puts in his contacts into every single one, saying that he’ll write more on it later. Ryo and Ed leave for training afterwards and Fubuki turns to his little, freshly-formed gang.

“So who wants to go on a tour, see my new workplace and then inevitably get lost?”

“Sure.”

“I do!”

* * *

 

Turns out Manjoume is _The Manjoume_ that Judai was thinking about and he looks as ridiculous as ever if not more so now that he’s got a dumb (black) lab coat on, caked in kaiju blue – Judai begs the lord that Manjoume’s actually learned to do laundry, it’s not that hard – and a pair of work goggles on, crushing down his raven bangs in weird places.

“You’re back early, Tenjouin. Forgot something?” he asks, still pulling out what looks like intestines from some bizarre, unnamed organ part, so focused on his task that he doesn’t even notice the presence of extra people loitering around the lab, checking out the gross kaiju parts and poking around (Judai) the colorful vials. The place is dimly lit and really sweet and it looks like Majoume’s turned it into his private, goth cave because of the decorations and most of the light coming from the glass cases filled with neon substances and more kaiju parts. Judai never fully understood the guy’s fascination with dissection and kaiju skin parasites or whatever the hell those were.

But first and foremost Manjoume was hard for piloting and Jaegers so seeing him in this Batcave is a little surprising. “I thought you went to North for a piloting exchange not whatever it is that you’re currently doing?” Judai yells into Manjoume’s ear and the guy startles so badly that he jumps up and drops his purplish-blue meat blob, exclaiming a garbled “fuck!” when it lands right onto his Louis Vuittons.

Manjoume’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the sight of his old school’s arch nemesis (self-proclaimed and one-sided) jaw dropping along with more kaiju meat. “You.”

“Me.”

Manjoume peels off the rubber gloves and raises his blue-smudged goggles. “What kind of sick and twisted surprise is this?” he spits, nose scrunched up in exaggerated disgust.

“A good kind!” Judai’s fucking ecstatic to see Jun again, it’s been years and despite the guy’s reluctance to admit their friendship, he was an irreplaceable comrade right before he left and never returned. They haven’t been in contact since and judging by his reaction it seems that Manjoume was one of the like three people within this facility who didn’t get the memo of the new batch of pilots arriving soon – cept for Fubuki and, well.

His face turns pink at the sight of Asuka, standing by the biggest case of the room, hands clasped behind her back and eyes focused on what seems to be a kaiju aorta. “Tenjouin-kun…!” He sheds the gross lab coat, quickly fixing his appearance. Asuka turns around at being called, says a simple “hello” and her attention wanders back to the organ-thing. Under her breath, she whispers “fascinating”.

Fubuki says something that sounds suspiciously close to “yikes” whereas Judai seizes the opportunity and throws an arm around Manjoume’s slim neck, locking it in place. “Hey, pay attention to me. I missed you, ya scrub. How was North Acade? Dominated the entire student body, Thunder?”

“Full of plebs. Not worth my time.” Manjoume seems smitten still but quickly gets back to it when he notices that he’s nearly losing his nose to Judai’s sharp collarbones. “Unhand me, you brute. Also, I don’t do the Thunder thing anymore. My brothers say that it’s unbefitting of a scientist.”

He doesn’t seem too pleased with saying it – a mantra that’s been drilled into to Manjoume over and over again to the point he’s long since accepted it because he didn’t have Judai and the Co. to prove him wrong somehow, show him the right path to the freedom of choice and it sucks that Manjoume had to up and leave the country and that now he’s somehow stuck with kaiju parts preserved in glowy goo instead of kicking living kaiju ass in a big ass sentient robot.

Judai tightens his grip and sticks out a fist in front of Manjoume’s face. “That won’t do, Jun.”

“It’s Manjoume.”

Judai smirks. His friend’s always been easy to provoke. However, it doesn’t look like he’s noticed yet. “C’mon say it with me,” to his embarrassed “no”, Judai jostles him to the sides a little, still holding the fist. “Say it with me.”

Manjoume sends a frustrated look at the Tenjouins who seem to be only vaguely interested in their traditions, attention caught by the lab rather than a flustered guy vaguely smelling of soy sauce – Judai takes comfort in it, Manjoume didn’t change all that much after all. Still unfamiliar with the concept of washing machines. “Judai, don’t,” he whines with the urgency of a man dying from public humiliation.

Judai is merciless in that field. “One.”

“Oh my god.”

“Ten, one-hundred,” Judai’s voice rises with every word and he counts down them with his fingers, opening the fist. “Thousand!”

“Manjoume Thunder!” Jun finishes in a murmur, red-faced, and lets out a defeated sigh, roughly pushes away Judai’s dumb, grinning face. “There, better? If you only came to bother me, you can leave now. The ranger field’s on a different floor,” he turns around then, shoulders slumping and voice a little saddened.

“Actually,” Fubuki says, retracting his fingertips from one glass case. “We dropped by so I could give you a good proposal!”

“Such as?”

“We’re meeting up at the lounge today. It’ll be like a welcome party for us!” Fubuki clasps his hands together and seductively bats his long eyelashes before Manjoume can say something along the lines of “I’m a busy man and I’m a big adult and did I mention adult responsibilities also I don’t party because partying is for kids, which I’m not, bye.”

However, it seems that his superior didn’t even consider the possibility of not attending because he agrees to it in a heartbeat – not before shyly glancing at Asuka dear, oh my.

Judai bear hugs him before rushing out – they aren’t even supposed to be in this _restricted area without proper attire or equipment on, Tenjouin, you should know that_ – and feels excited for the evening more than ever, wishing it to come sooner.

* * *

 

Asuka somehow manages to navigate their new home for the year without losing the path once and they even find the lounge, checking the area out – cozy, warm, filled with pelts, decorative horns and plenty of pool tables. Fubuki wanders around, taking note of everything and having little to no self-awareness – or he truly doesn’t give a shit about the mean stares and the disgruntled “watch where you’re going, pretty boy” when he nearly messes up one man’s attempt at scoring and therefore winning an intense game of billiards. He moves aside and out of the range before the other can stir shit and start a massive lounge fight – there’s a cigarette dangling from his teeth and Fubuki has no doubt in mind that this would be the first thing he’d use as a weapon, the second being the stick.

He whispers a “bingo” when he wanders even deeper into the spacious area but before Judai and Asuka can properly turn the corner and check it out, Fubuki ushers them outside, tells them to dress comfortably for the night because they’ll be staying there for a while.

Judai’s throwing out the ero calendar when Fubuki texts him to come downstairs. The cat that’s followed him into the room lets out another meow and Judai collects it, takes his keys and nearly skips the entire way to the staircase and then the elevator.

There’s five of them, short and painfully Japanese – sans Ed much to Fubuki’s dismay, because wherever Ryo goes, the other follows, willingly or not – but at least there aren’t enough people inside the area for them to stick out like a sore thumb and the small group lounging on the sofas and drinking themselves into an alcoholic coma aren’t paying them any attention, chatting quietly. When Asuka nearly trips over an inconveniently placed carpet, one of the guys smoothly catches her by the waist and warns the young lady to watch her step, Judai realizes why they’re indifferent towards their existence – they’re foreigners here, just like them.

Perhaps they’re even here for the CCAT? Judai wants to go up to the nice guy with the cowboy hat and ask, but Fubuki’s already yanking him to the area they didn’t get to fully explore on their first visit.

There’s a ping pong table there, old and barely standing but definitely usable so Fubuki gives a dramatic speech about how he’s glad that all of them showed up and that the power of unity (and Japan, Ed, why are you even here) is stronger than discrimination so to commemorate this awesome reunion, they’re gonna have a table tennis tournament.

Despite the eyerolls and the compulsory “this is lame, it’s like camp bonding” complains, they’re actually excited for it - Ryo is already taking an offered paddle and bee-lining towards one end of the table, waiting for his future opponents.

Fubuki offers to go first, says something about how this will help him warm up his wrist and that Ryo’s going _down_ , so the rest sit on the brown leather sofa overlooking the table with Manjoume doing most of the talking about the shit that had occurred in his life since leaving Japan – his semi-willing transfer to research department because of the older brother’s wish (one of them is apparently in charge of the kaiju research here while the other’s busy with Jaeger production at the States), discovering his hidden passion for kaiju behavior studies (he seems proud of that one, apparently he’s been able to successfully predict most of Level 3 kaiju movements even before they surfaced) so it isn’t all that bad! Also, he gets to boss people around, so that’s a huge plus. Now he gets to boss around the Hot Newbie, Ed knowingly says, to which Manjoume tells him to shut the fuck up, but his ears are turning a deep pink with every indignant intake of breath.

Ed then asks Asuka about the Tenjouin transfer – he’s honestly expected them to be like Ryo, looking for a good environment to get practice and effectively climb up the ladder of promotion simultaneously, talk about unexpected when he found out that Fubuki’s left all of that behind.

Asuka looks into her glass of cherry soda as though she’s hoping that the bubbling depths hold all answers to their problems. The beverage only distorts her reflection and she sighs, taking a sip.  “Brother’s no longer fit for service. I think that even despite his arm giving out on him he’d continue burning himself out till the very end no matter what any of us told him. He’s that type of person - won’t let anything get in his way once he sets his mind to it.” Asuka’s gray eyes follow her brother’s form, barely hitting a plastic ball coming his way. He’s radiating joy and blinding confidence and she should be glad, reassured, but Asuka knows all too well what’s boiling underneath the outgoing surface – they shared a brain in their mind-meld after all. She knows of Fubuki’s insecurities, pain, the fact that he can hardly sleep at night without waking up drenched in cold sweat, always reaching out to someone who was no longer there, who left as suddenly as they had appeared in Fubuki’s life – survivor’s guilt. Asuka knows of Fubuki’s self-destructive tendencies – anything to get his mind at ease and calm the ever-present, lingering anxiety, be it with working out to the point he can’t stand or doing dangerous shit that would cause his early demise if he didn’t calculate the risks carefully enough.

“What’s actually going on with him?” Judai urges despite Manjoume’s stink eye and the scolding “it’s their private business, idiot, don’t be insensitive”.

Asuka lets out a small breath and shrugs her shoulders. One dismissive movement of her hand is enough to shut Manjoume up. “It’s okay. It’s best if you know. See, brother can’t get into a Jaeger without having elevated heart palpitations and labored breathing – the rumors at the shatterdome were true. I assume they were leaked by a supervising technician. We fall out of alignment too – a thing that would instantly result in death on the battlefield.” Ed pales at that, looks at Ryo’s form as if he’s visualizing the possibility of something like this happening to them too. Shivers.  

“Before our transfer,” Asuka gulps, pauses. “Before our transfer, the two of us intercepted a kaiju. A big one, with very fast legs. I no longer recall the details nor do I remember its codename – I was frozen in a complete state of shock. After that thing hit Fubuki’s side, I started getting these… flashbacks and some insane fear that wasn’t even mine. It was so intense that it had successfully overpowered my own thoughts. We were still working together as one unit but it almost seemed as if I was stuck with someone who wanted nothing to do with fighting or kaiju. We barely pulled through, and only because Fubuki’s survival instincts kicked in. I could hardly do anything at the time and I couldn’t lose my remaining focus and snap him out of it – that creature kept blinking past us. I managed to take out two of its legs though, so that bought us some time.”

Fubuki’s autopilot killing spree was something Asuka would hardly refer to as “survival” but she’s going to take that scene to the grave, something that had left its mark on her psyche inside out – the sight of her brother looking like that, like he’s lost himself completely and would never come back. Only Asuka’s worry, her soothing presence had managed to drag him out at the last second, shivering and heaving, icy water seeping through the top of their damaged cockpit, mercilessly spraying them as they sank deeper into the ocean.

He’d pulled the muscles of his bad arm then.

“The kaiju that we’ve intercepted looked just like the one that took Yusuke’s life. That’s why he went into the fight or flight mode, so much that the officials insisted on him never getting inside a Jaeger again. In our field of work there is no room for grief,” she finishes sadly.

“Tenjouin’s first drift partner, huh?” Ed says to no one in particular, staring at a stag head nailed to the opposite wall. Judai’s eyes are wide – he didn’t know that Fubuki lost his original co-pilot to that. “Heard that they didn’t properly disconnect before the kid kicked the bucket.”

A collective shiver passes through the group, varying in intensity. Judai hisses through grit teeth, remembers the sensation of closeness with another person – that person being you – and touches his forehead, massaging. “I can’t even begin to comprehend what that must’ve felt like.”

“Like a part of you was ripped out of your skull, obviously,” Manjoume snorts at the silly question but it’s not mean. More like fearful. “This is why I don’t want to drift. Ever. Unless I somehow manage to find The One I’d be willing to show everything to – I’d rather not risk the loss of some nameless, incompetent fool who got themselves killed on the battlefield and didn’t properly disconnect beforehand.” Nor does Manjoume wish for anyone to _see inside_ and find out all about his reoccurring family-drama along with the crippling insecurities, complexes. Drift is like a cheat code to knowing someone without having to peel off their layers for long, painstaking years. And even then, you don’t know them like _the drift_ lets you know them.

Sometimes even better than yourself.

“None of us know what’s it truly like and I sure as hell hope that we never find out,” Ed whispers, running a pale hand over his throat and looking over Ryo who has finally won one off Fubuki – 8/6.

Well, this got depressing fast.

* * *

 

Five games later, Fubuki decides to kick it up a notch and compete in teams but Asuka’s already done with tennis for the night so Judai sits down next to her so that she doesn’t feel alone or unwanted and they have a good time by themselves. He does manage to rope her into one game of pool so they don’t really know who wins the 2vs2 deal – but by the sound of Fubuki’s “this is so unfair, you two work together as one unit, you’re literally drift-compatible, I demand a switch of partners” it’s easy to assume who the winner is.

Asuka’s good at it but so is Judai so it’s a pretty evenly-matched game and they get ridiculously competitive over it, the drunken folks sitting on the sofas clapping whenever either of them score. Judai grins and bows when he messes up Asuka’s favorable formation and scores a triple off her. The guy in the hat hoots and says “don’t give up, young lady” as though this is the best evening entertainment he’s ever had and they both smile at that – it’s nice to know that not everyone wants to see them fail.

Judai wants the game to end soon so that he can make friends with fellow foreigners but Fubuki’s ahead of him because he bravely strolls up to the people perched on the sofa and invites them to join the table tennis competition and balance out the teams. Two of them – the guy in the hat included – look at each other and nod, shrugging, “Sure, why not?”

And so their tennis championship resumes – Judai and Asuka call it a draw and promise to finish this some other time, rejoining the rest. The guy in the hat introduces himself as Jim Crocodile Cook from whichever branch they want to put him in – he’s been to them all, Japan’s shatterdome included, thank you very much, and he’s also pretty decent at Japanese language too, why is it so hard to pronounce though, Tomorrow Girl? – and then motions to his more reserved friend – Austin O’Brien, the supervising technician in charge of overlooking the CCAT’s progress. The rest of the people drinking with them seem to be techies as well, worshiping the ground O’Brien walks upon – apparently they’re his best team and he supports them just as much as they support him, tennis matches included.

Judai likes them, they’re good people even if O’Brien seems a little intimidating at first – probably because he’s kind of like his _future superior_ and has a glare-like stare that makes Judai uncomfortable until O’Brien simply tells him that his aim would be slightly better if he readjusted his grip on the paddle, whereas Jim is either a huge chatterbox or just a friendly drunk. It’s the former, O’Brien promises, when Jim sneaks up to the bar, picks the lock and takes out a new bottle of bourbon – his favorite apparently.

Judai wins a match off Ryo and Ed, gloats about it for the rest of the night and relinquishes the paddle to Manjoume’s grabby fingers – he’s dead set on proving his worth to Fubuki whom he now calls sensei and that’s bound to attract weird stares at work, definitely.

Jim pats a spot next to him – he’s been getting to know Tomorrow Girl for over an hour now, earning suspicious stares from Manjoume – and then offers the newcomer his bottle. Judai makes a face, says that he doesn’t drink this sort of stuff – he tried once and he’s not about to try again – so Asuka only shrugs, reaches out to it and takes a lengthy swig without even flinching. Jim whistles, impressed, crosses his legs and spreads out his arms on the back of the sofa, asks them if they’re here for CCAT.

“You’re not gonna make fun of us if we say yes, are you?” Judai jokes and Jim replies with a cheerful “cross my heart and hope to die”. It somehow loses its charming effect when spoken in Japanese, but he’s got the pronunciation down to an art so there’s at least that.

“Really, Judai, the only reason I’m even here right now is because I tried out CCAT last year. A one year deal just like yours. Found myself a reliable partner through it – hope that sounds reassuring? – and we’re gonna bail whenever he wants to. The sooner the better, this climate’s been pissing me off for months now. So there’s no need to be ashamed. Everyone has confidence issues when it comes to drifting, some just have bigger ones, s’all.” Jim says it like he truly means it, there’re no ill intentions or hidden mockery whatsoever so Judai decides that he trusts him with his pilot career. “Have some guts and you’ll do amazing!”

He then dishes out what he considers to be helpful advice for the Japanese guests – apparently his mysterious partner is Japanese too and had to go through the same kind of rough treatment except no one actually wanted to pick a fight with the guy because he had “the strength of a stallion and biceps that could probably crush crusty soda cans” Jim says dreamily after picking up one of the said cans. Success consists of being respectful to superiors (Judai can already see himself failing step one), never looking someone directly into the eye, walking with confidence, ignoring taunts and most important of all – spending every waking moment with their future co-pilots by their side – apparently it’s how the officials judge the strength and reliability of a bond. Suddenly Ryo and Ed being attached at the hip makes a whole lot of sense despite the fact that while they may seem like a good unit they hate on each other more often than not.

“It’s not like they care what you secretly think of each other. It’s the image of the perfect union that they strive to achieve. You can despise each other for all they care, as long as you show decent results and trust each other with your lives, it’s enough. It’s the same everywhere except that the Russian HQ wants to take the trust-forged bonds between two pilots to a whole new level. I’m sure they’d piss themselves from happiness if they found out their pilots were boning behind closed doors, hey, who knows, maybe next year it will be a compulsory task!” Jim snorts and passes the bottle back to Asuka who seems to be getting slightly tipsy. “It’s a sweet deal if your co-pilot’s hot as fuck.”

“With biceps meant for crushing cans?”

“Oh yes.”

“Can’t wait to meet the guy. Seems like one tough customer, maybe we can wrestle.” Judai then sprawls out on the sofa more comfortably, sinking deeper into it. Shit, he’d trade the shitty cot for this piece of furniture any day. By now all of them are touching in some way, legs tangled together in a weird pile of limbs. Not like they mind. “I wonder what this year’s batch is gonna be like.” Wonders if there’ll be a lot of competition, if he’s going to lose his eye to some huge Russian wielding a wooden staff.

Jim contently looks into the distance, nearly dosing off, and then snaps his fingers in enlightenment. “Oh right! Seen a few solo guys running around, but one of them definitely left an impression. The kid’s my next door neighbor, never saw him after the initial introductions, but he’s a very nice guy despite acting like a ghost most of the time. Not sure where he runs off to, no one ever sees him around. But you two will be meeting each other in the trials tomorrow, so keep an eye out for someone named Johan Andersen. I somehow have a feeling you two might click, you’re really alike personality-wise.” Jim winks at him – or would wink if there wasn’t an eyepatch adorning his right eye but Judai’s pretty sure it counts – and Judai takes those words of reassurance into consideration, carefully turning them over in his head.

Someone who would match up to him, huh? Well, he doesn’t know who this person is yet so it’s not like he can outright say anything other than remain skeptic. “Uh, I’m sure he’s great and all, but... Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Guess you will.” Jim nods sagely, whines when there’s no more booze – Asuka’s already drifting off, listening to them converse mostly.

They start talking about other things then, the places they come from, things they like and dislike about this facility and their respective shatterdomes, plans and all. Judai asks Jim about his eye but the other doesn’t get too much into it, calls it a childhood incident when he didn’t know any better, promises to introduce Judai to his pet crocodile – that’s right, a goddamn crocodile – and mentions how he had to fight tooth and nail for a good room with proper heating to make his girl Karen comfortable. It wasn’t hard to achieve considering his very much not Japanese heritage.

O’Brien comes then, fills Judai in on the details that are causing serious tension between Russia and Japan respectively – something about new Jaeger models and their mass-production, Japan driving Russia out of business with fancy, electricity-based M180 models. After the mass media scandals reached their peak, Japan’s prime-minister refused to send in backup when the kaiju attacked, destroying four villages and third of a city in the process. The Japanese were never forgiven for this act of treason. The tension between the two countries had skyrocketed and if it weren’t for the AF conference which followed a few months after the incident, there would’ve been a huge war breaking out and drowning half of the world in even more chaos. And now there was that JCA treaty keeping everyone somewhat civil and in check, obligating them to communicate in every field even remotely related to the kaiju activity.

The tension between the people and their outlook on each other had yet to change despite the enormous amounts of effort put into bettering the current situation.

The voice over the com notifies (in four different languages) the facility’s residents that the lights will be switched into energy-saving mode in twenty minutes and the message is clear – they should probably go the fuck back to their rooms and sleep instead of wasting much-needed electricity by wandering around the dark, green-lit hallways.

They put the tournament on hold – Ryo and Ed have taken the first place but only barely because O’Brien is that good when it comes to inhuman reflexes – and decide to call it a night. Fubuki comes over to poke his sister awake but she only bats his hands away and curls up on the small, tribal-pattern pillows.

“Asuka, I’m not carrying you the entire way to your room. My back’s gonna break.”

She doesn’t reply and Jim clears his throat. “It’s no problem, mate, I can take over.”

Fubuki’s eyes squint in the dimming lights, mistrust reflected in them. The guy’s smashed no matter how steady he is – Judai’s impressed by Jim’s ability to hold his liquor so well, by now he’d be conked out completely. The tall man doesn’t even look tipsy. “I think not,” Fubuki huffs and resigns himself to his fate and his broken back. He collects Asuka in his arms, and she wraps herself around him like a baby koala – or a drunken toddler in this case and they all move out, Manjoume picking up the stolen bottles.

Judai yawns into his hand and mostly talks with Manjoume before they part ways.

This new place isn’t so bad, he thinks, and takes it back immediately when he’s back at his freezing cave.

* * *

 

Judai nearly punches himself in the face when he wakes up the following morning, certain that there’s a fire happening outside because there are sirens and what the fuck, this isn’t how you wake someone. Then he takes his sleeping habits into consideration, figured he isn’t the only sleepy-head here, and thinks that anything less would’ve ended up with him sleeping through the first rounds of CCAT trials. Worst case scenario – missing his turn.

At least the shower is decent and the water temperature isn’t wonky so the RUSHQ make good investments. There’s a bathroom for every occupied hallway and his fellow neighbors don’t pay him the slightest bit of attention when he goes up to the mirror to check his appearance right before heading out to the training room.

He pulls on the uniform that smells like dust balls and moths, and feels himself drowning in it because apparently the Russian size for M doesn’t quite fit the Japanese one. In fact, it’s a long stretch, almost literally. Judai makes a mental note to check in with the Marshal later – or should he go to someone else, he doesn’t know how ranks work around here and who is responsible for what – and then exchanges the tent-like army tee for a black tank top, fuck if he’s going with that assigned thing on. It’s gonna restrict his movements and probably fall on his face and then blind him mid-battle or something. It could easily result in concussions, is what he’s gonna say if they ask about disrespecting the dress-code.

The pants are comfortable, at least after Judai rolls them up like four times.

He still ends up running late but it’s O’Brien who’s the one supervising the match fights so the man doesn’t scold Judai other than uttering out a tired, reprimanding “just don’t be tardy again”. Surprisingly enough, there’s _Manjoume_ standing by O’Brien’s side and he’s got a thick manila folder held in his hands, constantly calling out names and jotting something down every now and then, along with marking the cadets’ scores.

Judai joins the small crowd of very nervous-looking cadets – he wonders how many of them are actual cadets though, some definitely look older than him and Asuka, and they’re probably just fretting over this program being their last shot – and calmly waits for his turn, tries to find Asuka. Sees her talking to Ryo who’s shown up to check out the newbies, Ed, of course, standing by his side. Judai notices that the duo aren’t the only rangers loitering around, curious to see what the new cadets might pull and how desperate they’ll inevitably get if they defeat too many without finding a good match.

All of the rangers, Judai notes, are dressed in their official matching jackets, the unit-specific colors and insignias standing out in the crowd of the boring, muddy green. They all seem like assholes too, but Judai knows better than to judge – they’re proud Jaeger pilots and they need to keep up the unconquerable leader act to reassure the rest. Ryo and Ed would easily put him off if he didn’t know them beforehand – their intense gazes and blatant disapproval at the clearly failing matches are nothing to sneer at.

Another match ends – this one on a promising note, the cadets score an even 4/4 and one of them helps the other up on his feet, smiling kindly – and Manjoume’s nasally voice calls out “Judai Yuki”.

Judai nearly skips to the front of the crowd and then to the ring, rubbing his hands in excitement the entire way. While it’s a little scary, it’s also been a while since he’s done this and he can’t wait to clash and communicate through movements and staffs – now _that’s_ the part that should definitely be viewed upon in a glorified light. He easily catches the staff that O’Brien throws his way and spins it around, bouncing in place, pants slipping out of formation. It’s hard to stop the toothy grin that’s beginning to hurt his cheeks.

The cadets look equal parts weirded out and intimidated and Judai completely ignores Manjoume’s usual rant of the safety code “this is a conversation not an actual fight, serious violations will result in yadda yadda”, interrupts it mid-way with an energetic. “Aight, who’s gonna be my opponent!? I’ll take all of you on.”

There’s a twitch in Manjoume’s eyebrow before he yells at him to quiet down and stop acting like a, pardon O’Brien, ahem ahem, anyways there’s _a list_ of people who might be the most suitable candidates for him and that’s how it’s gonna go, he can’t just dive in swinging his staff at everyone. Which is a dumb rule, but okay.

The rangers laugh at that, mostly mocking rather than impressed with the newbie’s zeal, but Judai’s unperturbed by it, frowning. “But what if my co-pilot’s not on your list?” he gestures to the sizable crowd. Someone says “as if you’re gonna find someone like that here, kiddo” so Ryo turns to glare at whoever did it, scanning the crowd for the offender. “What are you gonna do then, Sir?” It feels weird acting so official with his tennis buddy but there’s a time and place for everything, Judai assumes. “Isn’t it more reliable to just take on everyone? It’s only logical.”

O’Brien uncrosses his thick arms and much to everyone’s surprise lets out a chopped, boisterous laugh. It dies down as suddenly as it comes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Yuki,” he says kindly and nods at Manjoume who seems _this close_ to throwing his brick-like folder at Judai’s grinning, pleased face. “Start.”

“Right,” Manjoume grumbles and then his pen hovers over the name of the first candidate. “Leon Nesti.”

Leon turns out to be a dude the size of a mountain bear – later on Fubuki will laugh at him for this comparison, being semi-decent in Russian language and all – and he seems to be out for blood, ready to throw aside the staff and then grind Judai into dusty particles, clearly dead-set on slaughtering the _filthy jap_ for his country’s multiple crimes against his homeland. It’s a good thing that Judai’s a nimble pest, quickly rolling out of harm’s way and dealing certain blows, moving too fast for the guy’s dark eyes to follow. They clash their staffs only once and Judai feels his forearms going numb from the impact, nearly drops the staff. He isn’t sure how it isn’t splintered, whispers an impressed “whoa” despite himself.

It ends in 4/1 and it’s a crushing disappointment for both sides – Leon’s mostly saddened by his failure in trying to pulverize Judai to the point even his parents wouldn’t recognize the body – that leaves behind a bruise on Judai’s thigh which will undeniably turn purple-red in an hour tops. 

Half of the people come at him with the intent to kill but Judai stands his ground without bitching at the supervisors to interfere or say something and this sort of headstrong, foolish bravery somehow manages to charm the spectators, pulling them in. There are no more rude comments afterwards.

Judai assumes that he feels a connection with this cheerful girl named Tatjana, and almost flunks the fight on purpose due to the overflowing excitement but then something goes horribly wrong and so Judai finds himself leading the fight completely – it’s like she’s waiting for him to do just that, mindlessly copying his movements and nothing more.

While Manjoume seems impressed and sends a hopeful look O’Brien’s way, the other man only frowns and stiffly shakes his head – Judai’s no longer having fun with that fight in particular, having picked up on the one-sided conversation.

Three more people that follow disappoint Judai in a similar way – too inexperienced, too desperate. Desperate for someone to take their hand and the reins and this isn’t what the drift is all about. It’s about mutual effort and respect, about holding ones’ own. He almost feels sad for these people – he knows for sure that they won’t be able to handle the neural handshake with the sort of ease that strong, independent people do – they’ll get overwhelmed by their future pilot’s memories, thoughts, feelings.

Lose themselves.

Judai’s final match before O’Brien grants him a short break out of the goodness of his heart – a short guy who insists on being referred to as Nico rather than Nikolai – nearly breaks out into tears, finally giving into the pressure of the failing bonding opportunities. Judai soothes the newbie cadet – seriously, he’s got his entire life ahead of him, if there’s anyone who should be crying here it’s Judai, this is the twelfth match and he doubts that there are many people left in Manjoume’s candidate list holding the answers to his future path choices – and hoists the kid up by the forearms, taking him to the water coolers and refusing to leave until he drinks some water. It’s not like Judai can actually soothe someone when it comes to drift-related anxiety – he’s got his hands full with that one as well and he still hasn’t found the answers he’s been searching for – so Judai gives him one last thumbs up and bails from there, a little further away from the crowd staring at him in awe.

O’Brien demands _order_ and announces that while Judai’s resting they can proceed with the following matches. Judai stretches his legs and decides to observe the new pair, grateful for the small distraction it provides, successfully overthrowing all and any gnawing thoughts he might have. The fear’s beginning to kick in, slowly but surely.

With a small hop, Judai gets up from his squat – it’s for the best if his muscles are loose enough for round two – and notices a guy standing right next to him, someone who definitely wasn’t there before. He fills out the ridiculous prison uniform in all the right places as though it’s been made for him and he’s watching the current match with a small smile on his lips.

Judai would eyezoom on the soothing blue hair but the new match successfully steals all of his attention. It’s mesmerizing to watch and Judai whistles, impressed – he recognizes a co-pilot unit when he sees one.

The mystery guy’s eyes flicker to Judai’s star-struck expression and he huffs a small laugh. Should he offer the fierce Japanese warrior a tissue? “Those two aren’t bad. Do you think it’s a match?” he then asks to break the ice and Judai only hums, gaze still fixed on the _conversation_ happening inside the ring at this very moment. He needs someone like that too.

Judai intelligently says “uh” followed by an “umm” and then, after he’s done staring, turns to face the other properly. “Yeah, they seem to look pretty good out there. I think it’s one of those instant-connection things.”

They clap when it ends in an expected 4/4 and the future co-pilots look like they’re about to cry in perfect harmony – they’ve come from different countries and cultures, probably don’t speak each other’s language, but they click in a way they’ve never had before. O’Brien nods in approval and Manjoume writes something down, separating the fighters’ files from the rest.

“I didn’t see all of your matches,” the blue-haired guy confesses. “Had to discuss some things with my supervisor and walked in late. Is this the first drift-comp? What were the other matches like?”

Normally Judai wouldn’t reply to so many questions in a row directed his way but before he knows it, he ends up answering them all and then some, telling the guy all about his experiences, the matches that he had missed, the frustration he feels now that there aren’t many people left on the cursed list – “how do you know there aren’t many left if you haven’t seen it?” the other asks politely, smiling in a reassuring way and Judai replies that he just knows, he can feel it in every thinly-stretched nerve of his body.

“I’m fresh out of North Academia,” the stranger hums. “This is my first time at cadet trials.”

“Why are you at CCAT?” Judai wonders, stretching his arms.

He only sticks out his tongue, playful. “Not good at letting someone in. The principal said that it’d be insane to let me go after I graduated at the top of my year.”

Judai’s impressed. “Really? Man, that’s so cool, you must be pretty good at... everything!”

“I’m not all that great but I don’t suck either,” he says with a light shrug, probably not giving himself enough credit in the process. Judai likes his humbleness. “Anyways, I just really wanna get my hands on an actual Jaeger. I heard it’s so much better than a SE.”

“What’s your score?”

“70 kills.”

“You’re gonna have no problems then!” Judai whistles. “And yeah, the real thing is… unmatchable! Like, just wait till you get to pilot a Jaeger, man, I thought that I grew wings when I first got into mine.” Not that he got to do a lot of killing with Sho by his side and the reprimanding voices coming from the com console - “you are to hold the perimeter and nothing else, is that clear? You’re at a high risk of falling out of alignment at any moment” – but just the fact that he made one move, that he wrestled a nasty turtle-like kaiju into submission while their more experienced unit finished it off… “It was awesome! The most fun experience of my life.”

“Right!?” the guy smiles, eyes sparkling. Judai can’t fully make out their color due to the dimmed lighting but he assumes it to be a striking ocean-green. “My professors thought it was weird when I described the SE experience as entertaining. According to them it was supposed to be,” he holds out his hands and waves them a little, voice dropping to intimidate that of an old man, “fear-striking and educational.”

“You sound like my supervisor back at the shatterdome!”

“Oh? What was he like? Also you’re technically a ranger, right? How old are you?”

And so they fall into an easy-flowing conversation, comfortable on both sides and never awkward despite the fact that they’re two strangers waiting for their turn in the tryouts. It’s like Judai’s known the other guy his entire life, feels as though they’re two old friends who haven’t seen each other for years and could easily fall back into familiarity as if they talked only yesterday.

Ten minutes into their conversation, Judai remembers that he didn’t even ask for the guy’s name – he assumes that the nameless stranger didn’t ask his because he already heard it being called out time and time again, right before every single match – and he opens his mouth to pop the question but then there’s a hat in the crowd and then there’s the rest of Jim, grinning and clearly not hungover. “Hello! I was wondering where you went off to, you turn’s up in a few.”

“Wanted to see me meet the one who will pop open soda cans with their biceps?” Judai asks, a tad sarcastic.

Jim’s gaze wanders to his new companion and possibly future friend (god, let that one come true) and he says a cryptic “There’s no longer any need for that,” followed up by a fucking shocking “Nice to see that you’re making friends without me having to say anything, Johan. Bravo! Also this is the guy I mentioned yesterday,” he gestures at Judai who gapes at the blue-haired boy – who’s _The Johan_ , apparently – before smiling widely. Wow!

Johan looks between them, getting a little pink in the face at this unexpected turn of events. “Next time you should tell me their name then!” he huffs, sticking out his hand for Judai to take. “Um, hey! Guess we’re officially introduced now.”

Judai dazedly takes it and feels the other’s fingers tightening the loose hold. It sends a shiver of what’s probably excitement at having such a fateful meeting down Judai’s spine as he smiles and confesses to feeling some sort of connection. He’s not one for destiny-related talk but this is a ridiculous, not to mention a pleasant coincidence, and Johan relates by saying that it feels as though he’s known Judai for a lifetime. He has a good feeling about the start of their friendship.

If they happen to hold hands for longer than it’s appropriate for a formal handshake, neither notice it. Jim, however, does and mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done. These two will definitely surprise the rest by the end of the evening.

* * *

 

Judai gets The Crazy Idea after his first match of part two – a match he hadn’t focused on and which ended in 4/3 – and he searches the crowd for a spot of blue, only to find Johan standing at the edge of the duel ring. He literally had to elbow his way through just to watch Judai kicking ass and finding a drift-comp. He gives Judai an encouraging thumbs up when their eyes finally meet. Johan mouths “don’t mind it” after Judai’s upsetting match partner storms away, seemingly humiliated.   

It’s then that Judai goes in to take Johan by the wrist to drag him to the arena. His friend’s a little confused by it. “Judai, what are you…?”

“Hush,” the brunet throws over a shoulder and stands before the elevation in the floor occupied by the supervisors. Whispers sweep over the training hall when Judai exclaims, “I must duke it out with him immediately.”

Manjoume raises an eyebrow – is this a fight? – and asks as much but Judai only shakes his head no, whereas O’Brien seems a little intrigued. Which is a good sign, right?

“Please,” Judai whimpers like a pathetic dog, sticks out his lower lip and trembles his eyelashes to the point Manjoume recoils in disgust, whispering something about dirty tactics fitting kindergartners at best.

However, O’Brien takes pity. “What’s your name, cadet?” he asks, giving the blue-haired kid an appraising stare.

“Johan Andersen, Sir.” Whereas Judai is a disrespectful mess at all times inconvenient, Johan’s a picture perfect obedient pilot, going as far as bowing at the waist at an ideal angle and asking for the other to grant him an opportunity to spar with Judai. He’d be really grateful if their request is approved of.

The latter thinks that perhaps he should observe his new friend more often in order to learn a thing or two.

O’Brien asks a skeptical Manjoume to hand over the list, looks over the crossed out names and firmly nods. “I’ll allow it. Take a staff, Andersen, and get ready.”

Johan tests out the length of the wooden staffs lined by the wall, swinging down in sharp movements to get a better grip on the feeling while Judai circles the duel ring, casually twirling his on one arm, easily catching it whenever it loses momentum. He makes fighting entertaining, Johan decides, privately smiling to himself and finally picking out the one that seems suitable enough to give him an advantage over the brunet – he’s already evaluated the other’s agility and tactics. Pretty good but certainly not something mind-blowing or unbeatable.

“Ready to get creamed?” Judai taunts in Japanese, smirking. Johan tries to force down a toothy grin and removes the stuffy uniform jacket. Judai then spins the staff over his head in a wide circle and hooks his forearm underneath it, firmly pressing its mid-point with the elbow and into his left side. He falls into a stance, legs spread wide and slightly bent, the free arm curved back and bent as well – the other knows his fighting styles. Still, Johan knows that he could easily make Judai lose that perfect balance with a single blow to the ankles but the grumpy-looking supervisor hasn’t ordered them to go at it yet, so he patiently waits, loosely holding onto his own staff that’s firmly set against the ground, leaning against it for support.

This is going to be good, they mutually decide, when Manjoume informs them to start the match already.

“Come at me, Judai. I leave the honors to you,” Johan tells him in Japanese and uncrosses his ankles, straightening up. Judai seems pleasantly surprised by that if the beam that he directs Johan’s way is anything to judge by.

They begin circling each other, slow and calculating, but still managing to convey playfulness. Judai spins the staff to rest under the other arm after he notices Johan taking casual backwards steps, never breaking eye contact. His grin is mischievous, clearly meant to deceive, but Judai’s already had to deal with guys like these in the past so he knows what to expect – Johan’s going to switch hands at the last moment and aim for his upper arm.

“And now we dance,” Judai taunts and throws himself at the blue-haired boy, going for the unguarded side. Johan switches arms – how expected, it’s almost disappointing – to parry Judai’s blow, keeping his gaze focused on Judai’s dark eyes the entire time. The latter steps into him to push on the staff even further and possibly knock Johan over to finish him off with well-placed blows – it’s what he would usually do and what ends up happening more often than not either way – but the guy only steps back and circles Judai, aiming for his calf. Judai spins around too, barely blocking the hit that comes with the sort of precision that cadets shouldn’t have.

“You’re good.”

Johan, who had plenty of chances to knock Judai on his ass or at least get a few points off him, only smirks and continues dancing around him, staff back at its original position. “Takes one to know one.”

Judai’s face is slowly beginning to scrunch up in confusion – why’s the other following instead of attacking? Why’s he waiting for Judai to take the lead?

What if he’s actually not all that special and not at all different from people like Tatjana?

He’s beginning to get upset and wait for Johan to make a move, eyeing the staff and anticipating for it to pop in Johan’s opposite hand but what he doesn’t expect is Johan’s staff pressing into the side of his knee. He nearly drops his own weapon in his surprise – he hadn’t seen a single shift in Johan’s facial expression or muscles before his hand shot out and took a point off him. The best part? His predictions of the hand-switch technique were totally wrong.

“Lost your leg, Judai,” Johan chirps, awfully smug. Bats his long eyelashes innocently. “If you aren’t careful you might lose the other.”

“Ugh, what a guy,” Judai breathes out then, incredulous, grins devilishly. Oh, it’s _on._ “You should watch it, cadet!” He charges again in the same pattern as before, attacking mercilessly, once, twice, thrice – all of which are blocked – and when Johan expects it the least, or, well, not at all, Judai switches the direction of his attack and his staff hovers a few centimeters away from the taller boy’s face. He breathes out slowly when Judai uses his weapon to pat him on the cheek twice. “Don’t get _ahead_ of yourself, _Johan-kun.”_

Feels the other’s staff hit against his other leg. Looks up at the blue-haired kid with an expression that just screams “are you fucking serious right now”. Johan sticks out his tongue, the fiend. “Whoops, lost both of your legs.”

Before Judai can properly move out of harm’s way, Johan bops him once more, this time on the torso and they circle each other again, anticipating – conversing without any words exchanged.

They do, however, exchange blows and Judai’s got Johan pinned and bent at an awkward and rather painful angle with the latter kneeling down and Judai sitting on his calves, the staff hooked under Johan’s chin and centimeters away from his neck when their referee announces 4/4, draw, two finishing blows exchanged at the same second.

Judai’s left panting because of the exerting fight – it was rather hard to bring Johan down with him after the other had swept Judai’s legs from underneath him, all the while avoiding getting hit by the staff which would result in Johan’s win – and his match partner’s no better so neither of them pick up on the thunderous clapping and the supportive shouts coming from cadets and rangers alike. When they finally do come to it, Judai’s little tennis gang is swarming around him, saying something about how it was “amazing and beautiful to watch” and that they were completely in sync with each other with their step sequences, timing and everything in between.

There’s a proud smirk on Manjoume’s face when he takes out Judai and Johan’s files and places them to a different folder – proof that they’re drift-compatible, signed and sealed.

* * *

 

“So I asked Manjoume about my list,” Judai pipes up while they’re cooling off, sitting further away from the obnoxious, glaring lights. “Guess what – you weren’t even on mine while I was on yours. Told me that it was some system error or something. I told him that lists are bullshit and here’s the proof.”

“Here’s to that,” Johan nods and they clink their plastic water cups – or would, if they didn’t awkwardly mesh together, spilling out contents and splashing their pants in the process. What can you do. It will dry. “But in the end it doesn’t really matter, now does it? We would’ve fought and ended up here either way.”

“But what if my name wasn’t on yours because of that system error?”

Johan hums and then shrugs, not wanting to consider possibility of not encountering Judai on this training field. Or any field, actually. “No use thinking about it now. We ended up where we are and it’s all that really matters.”

“Yeah,” Judai agrees and refocuses his attention back to the ring. They sit in comfortable silence for the entirety of ten seconds before Judai wonders out loud, “Hey, do you think that maybe Asuka’s had some errors mixed into hers as well?”

The aforementioned girl isn’t as lucky as Judai apparently – she’s almost through her list and there still isn’t a single person out there who’s got more than one point off her. She’s panting and sweaty and her hair’s slipping out of her bun but she refuses to take a break until the very end. Another mountain man ends up squashed under her bare foot and she tries to reign in her bubbling frustration, waiting for the right moment to surface. All it needs is a catalyst and that’s when Manjoume comes into the picture.

He writes something down in his carefully-kept notes, crosses out yet another name before glaring the retreating loser away and Asuka finally snaps.

_“What?”_

Manjoume looks up, frowning in confusion. Notices that she’s looking straight at him and raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me, were you talking to me?”

Asuka wrestles with her hair tie and releases the blond mane that cascades down her shoulders in an unusual way. She seems to be growing angrier with every passing moment. “Yes. I want to know what your problem is.”

Manjoume squints in confusion, holds the notes closer to his chest as though it’s some security blanket that can somehow fend off Tenjouin’s fierce glare. Blushes like a smitten school girl. “…My problem? I don’t believe that I–”

 “Oh please, don’t even give me that excuse!” She spreads out her arms, running shaky fingers through the sweaty fringe. “You’ve been making this sour face,” Asuka exaggeratedly curls back her lip and scrunches up her entire face to illustrate it. Judai thinks that it’s pretty on point, “after every single match and I would like to know what is it that I’m doing wrong to warrant such a reaction from you, _Sir,_ ” she hisses, unusually spiteful.

Manjoume pales, blushes again and then clears his throat, subconsciously pulling the face again. “It’s not something related to what you are doing, Miss Tenjouin. I’m sure my colleague here can agree that you’re by far the most skillful person we’ve seen the entire day.” O’Brien nods his confirmation, letting Manjoume finish his carefully-worded explanation.  “My only concern is that your opponents are holding back on you. Sure, not too obviously, but they are and while you’re supposed to treat a lady right and be a gentleman, I also feel it to be unjust to you as a fighter. It’s disgraceful to every ranger, gender aside.”

Asuka’s still panting but she no longer looks ready to murder everyone in the nearby vicinity and she squints at Manjoume as though he’s just said something stupid – which Judai personally doesn’t understand because this is by far the most woke thing the other’s ever said, he too has noticed the girl’s opponents’ reluctance moments before striking her down or attacking – and she takes in a deep breath to collect herself. Exhales. “So you think they’re a waste of my time?”

Manjoume shrugs. “Not yours, per se, but definitely mine. I don’t want to look at someone who isn’t set on giving it their all in an important match.”

“Brutal,” Judai whispers and Johan replies with what he’s secretly thinking, “But it’s true.”

Asuka has more faith in her opponents than all of them combined, confident in their efforts. “If you think that these men aren’t trying their best or putting up a proper fight, then I invite you to come down and show me how it’s done. Show me what honest effort means, Sir.”

She kicks the staff back into one hand, points it Manjoume’s way and this is a challenge if Judai’s ever seen one. If he were in the latter’s place he’d accept immediately but Manjoume’s got an image to uphold along with a reputation and he’s no longer doing this Thunder stuff – his piloting dreams are supposedly long since buried.

It’s all clear on his ghostly pale face – the inner turmoil, the doubt – but his pride, his Thunder pride is on the line here and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t defend it.

“You should reconsider,” O’Brien advises but Manjoume’s already shedding his black coat and turtleneck until he’s only in a white tank and then puts the stack of papers into the supervisor’s arms.

“Not a word of this to my brother,” he hisses and goes for the staffs.

“I don’t think I’ll even have to do anything, he’s going to find out all about it by the end of the day.”

Manjoume looks a bit more reluctant then, as though he’s thinking of reconsidering, but Asuka’s already waiting for him and he’s not about to chicken out. “So be it,” Manjoume shrugs, picks one and determinedly shuffles to the ring.

He doesn’t even get to fully readjust his grip on the wood when there’s a crack rattling its very core and the two staffs clash, ceaseless, merciless.

* * *

 

“This is a slaughterhouse,” Johan comments with a wince and his palms come up to cover his face but the fingers spread immediately to observe the clashing duo, not wanting to miss a single second of it. “Oof, that’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure half of this isn’t even legal,” Judai cackles, wholeheartedly enjoying the show. Damn, if only they served popcorn here. “Who knows, maybe she’ll drag him out of his stupid delusions. I mean, look at him.” He gestures at Manjoume’s manic grin. Masochist. “He’s loving every single second of it. I bet he hasn’t enjoyed himself like this ever since leaving the pilot program.”

“I don’t know, Judai, looks to me like he’s just keeping up a bold front. I know I would if I got kneed in the solar plexus.”

Judai puts a hand on innocent, sweet Johan’s shoulder, pats it twice. “You don’t know Manjoume like I do, and trust me, he’s having the time of his life.” The guy in question barely rolls out of the way before Asuka can skewer him like some pig. Not a very meaty or particularly tasty-looking one. “The time of his goddamn life! Go, Thunder!” Judai cups his hands around his mouth, hooting a cheer.

He gets a muffled “fuck off” in return and that’s enough of a reassurance – if he has the time to curse, then he’s definitely cool.

Asuka lets out a startled scream when Manjoume forces her to the ground with a swift maneuver and a sharp hit with his staff and they wrestle for dominance, Manjoume scoring a few points off her in the process, evening out the difference.

“It almost looks like it’s working out for them,” Judai says then, cocking his head to the side. “They’re seriously going at it as though they’re truly trying to kill each other but they seem to be in sync while doing so.”

“Now that you mention it…” Johan mutters, rubbing his chin. “It is working out way better than with any of her partners from before.”

“Imagine they do end up being drift-compatible. Check out Fubuki.” He points out the brown-haired man at the front of the dense crowd for Johan’s gaze to follow. “He’s about to chew up his sleeve.”

“The anxiety’s getting to him. I can’t tell if he’s happy for them or not.”

“Both?”

Asuka lets out another war cry. By now there’s probably a tear in the older Tenjouin’s sleeve. Ryo attempts to pull it away but it doesn’t work because Fubuki bats at his fingers. In a shaky voice, the latter calls out “you’re doing great, sweetie!” and there’s the answer to Johan’s question – Judai’s right.

Their fight ends with Asuka nearly breaking Manjoume’s legs, but it’s a fair 4/4 and Asuka no longer wishes to face off anyone else.

Both of them know that they’ve finally found the connection that they’ve been searching for.


End file.
